


Lawgiver of a New Age

by kenmadragon



Category: Exalted, RWBY
Genre: Abyssals, Action/Adventure, Actual Disney Princess Jaune Arc, Adventure, Attempt at Humor, Crossover, Gen, Humor, Lunars, Magic Swords, Seven Deadly Sisters, Solars, dance battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmadragon/pseuds/kenmadragon
Summary: The First Lawgiver of a New Age. Where the Grimm are marshaled by Deathknights with ghostly legions. Where Huntsman Academies train future heroes, and secretly cultivate Viziers. Where Stewards seek to restore the Moon. Where gods lie sleeping, spirits hiding in shadows: Nature's Wrath wielded by ignorant mortals. Where man's small soul is no longer enough to keep out the darkness.On the night of his eighth birthday, Jaune Arc, scion of heroes and legends, uses a forbidden technique to defeat his Seven Deadly Sisters in the honorable art of Dance Battle. Awed and swayed by his innocence, grace, skill and virtue, the Unconquered Sun honors Jaune with Exaltation: the first Solar Shard of a New Age.Jaune then promptly attempts to befriend the Most High, believing He is the "Birthday Fairy".Look out Remnant, there's a new Hero on the block, and he has no idea what he's doing!





	1. I Will Be The Hero!

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Miracles of Ancient Wonder Book One: Beacon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224898) by [GravelessUniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GravelessUniverse/pseuds/GravelessUniverse). 



> This started as an omake I posted on Spacebattles for Graveless' RWBY/Exalted fic, "Miracles of Ancient Wonder". But I gave it some thought, and it actually isn't that bad of a premise for it's own fic, and could go in a wildly different direction from what Graveless did. So, here it is!
> 
> A/N: The author does not own RWBY nor does he own Exalted. Those belong to RoosterTeeth and Onyx Path Publishing (formerly White Wolf) respectively.

 

 

"These things tend to happen when you grow up with seven sisters."  
  
Much of Jaune Arc's life and abilities could be attributed to that simple statement. Tells you a lot about a guy when you remember he's the only male of the eight Arc siblings. It's tough when you have to deal with seven sisters with widely differing personalities and skills, and all of them like to treat you as... well, their toy. Which Jaune was.  
  
It really didn't help that Jaune's mother was all too okay with what his sisters did to Jaune (she has pictures! And they're  _adorable~!_ ). Nor that Jaune's father, Roland, was all too willing to let his wife take the helm when it came to their children, especially as he was often away, huntsman duties occupying a lot of his time. Quite frankly, he had been very much excited when Jaune was born - he had finally gotten a boy to bond with! - but from the collective glare of his wife and the pouts of his daughters... Roland was helpless.  
  
Which of course lead to Jaune being taught a great many things by his many sisters. Things like music and art, the beauty of good literature and the power of painting. They dressed him up in their old dresses, or whatever they had on that was cute, and taught him to sew and garden and cook and clean and sing and...  
  
It would be at about this point in his thoughts that the other Arc male would hunch over with dramatic guilt, unshed tears gathering in gleaming eyes; Roland Arc was helpless against the desires of his wife and daughters.  
  
Dad is sorry, Jaune! Dad is sorry for your future!  
  
But it did lead to some rather useful skills. Like the fact that the 7-year-old (going on 8 now) boy had taken to music and dancing with his sisters like a fish took to water, or a match to explosives. Dancing, at least, was a useful skill for the future, Mr. Arc had to agree, and might get his son many ladies in the future.  
  
Though, he couldn't have been any prouder when Jaune began to introduce himself to girls the way Roland had taught him - the way his own father had taught him, and so on and so forth through generations of Arc men. The sisters laughed when they heard about it. So did Jaune's mother... right after kicking Roland in the rear-end for teaching Jaune such ludicrous things. They never disputed it though. Just laugh and always agree that yes, ladies did love the name.  
  
Still, Jaune knew that someday…  
  
Someday he would be legendary.  
  
And that was his birthday wish, that fateful morning. As the sun rose with the dawn of his 8th birthday, Jaune was woken by his sisters to a chorus of "Happy Birthday!"s and in that moment made a wish. To be a hero! His family had been telling stories of what his father did, and what his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, and his great-great-grandfather, and on for a whole lot of "great"s for young boy to remember. And about a bunch of uncles (with lots of "great"s too) and some cousins, and a few aunts, but honestly at that point Jaune didn't really pay too much attention because his sisters dragged him away for a pretend-tea-party. He had gotten to wear a bonnet. It was very pretty, and had a big blue ribbon on it.  
  
Where were we? Oh yes! The birthday!  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------

  
It was a splendid occasion. Especially because so many relatives and family friends made sure to stop by for a visit. There were games and sweets and laughter all around. Though Mr. Fenn from next door did apparently have too much of the "adult-juice" and needed to be dragged back home by his wife, it was a fun party all around!  
  
Though all the happiness came to an end when competition finally reared it's head. The Arc Family Dance Competition, to be specific. An event held by the Arcs once a season, and just so happened to be scheduled to take advantage of Jaune's birthday party. Anyone who could claim to be a part of the Arc family was free to enter. But after the last few years had proved to be... dangerous for those competing: Great Uncle Tiberius had broken his hip at last summer's competition, and second-cousin Marigold had twisted both ankles and broke her forearm last winter's, to name a few. Viridian Renoe, one of Bianca's friends, had been so traumatized after one competition she still faints from terror at the mere sound of disco. So for the most part, this year's competition was between the Arc siblings.  
  
None dared challenge the Arc sisters on the dance floor, simply because the only way to win was to risk life and limb. No one else could keep up. Which lead to one of the sisters inevitably winning (Bianca, the oldest, usually).  
  
But Jaune wasn't scared. This time,  _ **he**_  was going to win! He'd been practicing for weeks! And he'd even made sure to save his piece of cake for after the competition. Last spring he'd had an upset tummy, and Mom had said it was because he ate before he danced and his tummy got mad at him. Stupid tummy, didn't it know that Arc Family Dancing is serious business?!  
  
The boy was tense with anticipation as his sisters shared looks between themselves as they saw Jaune attempt to compete. The determination on his face was contagious, and the tension hung heavy in the air.  
  
From just outside the dance floor, Roland Arc muttered a prayer to the god of the Arc family, Sol the Most High, for all of his children to still be alive and well when this was over.  
  
Then the music started. Pulsing notes and the rap of the drums resounded through the air, but all on the dance floor were still as statues.  
  
The beat dropped.  
  
And the bodies hit the floor.  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------

  
For the first time in forever, the Arc sisters truly felt fear. Jaune's relentless practice in the weeks leading up to his birthday had resulted in a level of boogie that quickly proved to be a genuine threat. Minutes into the Competition, the sisters came to a silent agreement: Jaune needed to be eliminated, before they could truly compete for the title of Dance Queen.  
  
By subtle dance-talk, Bianca directed Olivia - the youngest of the Seven Deadly Sisters - to challenge Jaune. With a subtle mosey over the dance floor, Olivia began to engage her brother.  
  
But young Jaune had caught their dance-talk and knew what it meant. So he took her challenge and met his sister's advance, matching her rhythm and pace. Olivia danced a rather common Valean style, honest and to the earth. Jaune faced it with enthusiasm, swinging and stepping lively to the beat as he seized control of the flow. In moments, he had unwittingly usurped the lead from his sister, and taken control of the dance. By the song's end, Olivia had failed to defeat young Jaune Arc.  
  
As the beat changed, Indigo Arc took control of the floor back from her brother. Legs whirling and spinning, Indigo's breaking maneuvers took advantage of the steady on-off beat of the percussion and the mellow verses of the music to fully show off her athleticism. After Olivia's failure, Indigo knew she could use superior body-control to pull off moves that her brother could not.  
  
Yet Jaune would not give in! Stepping in with a top-rock of his own, Jaune dropped into tandem with Indigo, meeting her at her own b-girling skill. Spinning on his head, his legs moved too close to hers, and Indigo pulled back out of sheer instinct. She couldn't bring herself to hurt Jaune, even by accident. And Jaune seemed to know it!  
  
Eyes going wide with shock, Indigo changed tactics, pulling Jaune into her routine. She had made the mistake of trying to teach Jaune the principles of breaking, but he had never had the agility for the complex maneuvers. Jaune had always been the support to set up her breaks. And unspoken message sent through dance-talk from Bianca had given the okay - if she had to, Indigo would take Jaune down with her.  
  
It wasn't fair, nor very honest, but Indigo Arc did it anyways.  
  
Throwing in some un-expected moves to shake Jaune off his game, Indigo couldn't help but be surprised when her little brother improvised to compensate. He even managed to jump the "accidental" sweeping kick at his legs. Though his landing was shaky, and Jaune seemed surprised at having jumped himself, Indigo had been in no position to take advantage of it. As the tune came to an end, she admitted her defeat with a soft smile, while Jaune moon-walked away, a large grin on his bright face.  
  
By this point, Azure Arc had already gotten tired, though she would do her best to challenge little Jaune the best she could. Never mind the fact she was the least proficient of her sisters in the art of dance, and was usually eliminated by the other sisters easily, but teamwork was one skill she knew very well. Nothing existed in an equilibrium, and the brainy sister was aware that the defeat of Olivia and Indigo meant Jaune had become a serious threat to the Seven Deadly Sisters. And so she challenged Jaune herself, with an orderly ballroom dance.  
  
She hadn't expected Jaune to seize the male's leading position from the start and control the entire dance, and despite the easy rhythm and lack of strain in the dance, her little brother's laser focus at getting the dance done perfectly was more than enough for her.  
  
Besides, his little face was scrunched up with determination, and oh so cute Azure could just  _SQUEEEE!_  After this was over, she was going to hunt down someone who had footage, just for the image of his adorable little face looking so fierce! She could trade it to her sisters for favors!  
  
From the ballroom came the tango, and Shani Arc took the center stage to drag her little brother into the Vacuoan rhythm, zesty guitar and the trilling of flutes leading the two into a wild whirlwind of motion all over the dance-floor. Physically intensive, the burning passion of one-half of the Arc twins was highlighted by the energy of the tango. Like the march of the sun through the sky, the tango was full of vibrant energy and passion - this late in the competition, where stamina quickly became an issue, spending that much energy to compete with someone as frenzied as Shani would cause them to burn up faster than magnesium in open air.  
  
But that was just what Jaune did, layering surprise after surprise as the little boy not only sought to keep up with his bigger, taller, more energetic sister, but also took the Girl's side of the dance, twirls, spins, sashays and mock flirtations galore! Where had he learned that behavior?!  
  
From the sidelines, Olivia shrank as she realized Jaune had taken her imitations of Shani and turned them against the older sister. She had just been joking, not teaching him those dirty dance moves! If Shani ever found out...  
  
The cherry on top came when Shani had to dip Jaune at the end, and the little boy merely laughed and gave his sister a kiss on the cheek,  
  
Then Jaune looked up at her, sweat beading on his forehead from the effort of keeping up with her. His smile was dazzling as he cheerfully said, "Thank you, Shani! For being such a great dance partner and for teaching me to dance in the first place. But now, I'm going to beat all of you! With my boogie fever!" After that, how could she not cede victory?  
  
Shani's twin, Sienna, had no such compunction. The waltz that followed the tango was strict and structured, Jaune took the lead this time. He hadn't been taught the girl's part, and Sienna immediately exploited that fact, leveraging for position. The older sisters had far more endurance than a mere 8-year old on his birthday, and Sienna knew it. Though the waltz was slow by nature, Jaune had lost enough energy in the tango for his fatigue to become noticeable.  
  
But that fire in his eyes hadn't died.  
  
No, if anything, it seemed as if his success in defeating the four of the Seven Deadly Sisters in the Arc Family Dance Competition had only fueled his determination.  
  
So Sienna tried a different game.  
  
"If you drop out now, Jaune, I'll clean your room for a month."  
  
Jaune blinked. He opened his mouth, before frowning, deep in thought. Even still, his feet never missed a beat, even lifting his arm for Sienna to bend and twirl under (despite how awkward that was, given the height difference)..  
  
"No."  
  
"What if I got you Pumpkin Pete's cereal behind Mom's back?"  
  
Jaune almost missed a step. Sienna just smirked.  
  
Mom never got him Pumpkin Pete's cereal! It was too sugary, she said! It's not any good, she argued! Jaune loved that cereal. It was delicious, and his mother just didn't understand.  
  
But was it worth throwing the competition?  
  
Jaune hesitated to say.  
  
Sienna merely smiled knowing she had won.  
  
"No."  
  
Wait.  
  
"Come again?"  
  
" _No_. I'm going to  _win!_ " Jaune declared, eyes burning with adorable fierceness. He was like an eager little kitten, trying to be a tiger. And Sienna couldn't help but melt.  
  
Unable to corrupt him from his path, Sienna admitted her defeat.  
  
By this point, the Dance competition was about to slam it home for the finale with tried and true dance music. And Jaune had proved too great a threat for one sister alone. So with subtle dance-talk to coordinate while Sienna had kept Jaune occupied, the remaining two Arc sisters - Bianca and Violet - came to an agreement.  
  
They would work together to challenge their little brother, and ensure he couldn't compete for at least another year. Bianca had been undefeated, and Violet was willing to go along with her sister to see just how determined their youngest sibling was.  
  
So as the music shifted and the dancing began, Jaune stepped up to Bianca and Violet.  
  
And the two attacked.  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------

  
Violet and Bianca were the main reason none could challenge the Seven Sisters on the dance floor. By the time any contender got close to being capable of challenging them, they would be exhausted and out of tricks. And the eldest sisters knew that so long as it was dancing, battling it out was fair play.  
  
Usually this devolved into the usual Violet-vs-Bianca match that would tear up the dance floor, unless Indigo or Shani or even Olivia had made this far too. But Jaune needed to be reminded of his place as the little brother. A win on the dance floor against all Seven Deadly Sisters would only give him the power to resist his sisters. That could NOT be allowed.  
  
The sisters circled their youngest sibling, and moved in tandem. Low kicks were shimmied away from, and swinging elbows ducked. Jaune's small size was an advantage in this game, for Bianca and Violet couldn't knock him away without straying too far from dancing. Actual fighting was forbidden! Bianca couldn't help but feel shocked! Jaune's dancing was superior to her own! And it didn't even look like he had even noticed the near-blatant attacks Violet and Bianca were throwing his way.  
  
As the first tune of this cycle transitioned to the next, Jaune was panting under breath, but he couldn't stop now! Bianca and Violet were still there, and he couldn't stop till he reached the dancing top! But he was getting really tired, and Bianca and Violet were bigger than him. They could easily out-last him if he allowed them to dominate the dance-floor.  
  
So Jaune froze, and stepped into their sense of time, disrupting his sisters' rhythm as he focused all his 8-years of concentration and experience. He dug deep into the core of his being, pulling on the ancient wisdom and power resting in his hallowed bloodline. Gathering the power of happy thoughts and an ever burning passion, he found his father's ancient teachings, and the dread Arc technique Jaune knew he had to unleash to win.  
  
"Get back! Shield your eyes!" his father yelled from the sidelines, having recognized the shaking hands of his 8-year old son, and what madness he would unleash.  
  
"Jaune! No!" Violet cried out as Bianca spun to pull her sister away.  
  
"It's too dangerous! We can't stop him now!"  
  
Violet and Bianca couldn't get away in time. They hadn't thought Jaune would be crazy enough to try pulling off the technique passed down through generations of Arc men. It was a double-edged sword, more prone to destroy a dancer than prove useful on the dance floor! But it was too late to stop him!  
  
For Jaune had unleashed the dreaded and terrible...  
  
_**Boogie Rhythm!**_  
  
A series of mixed up dances from every thing imaginable, blended together in a form that was so loose and incomprehensible it boggled the mind. Dance moves so terrible and awful no self-respecting dance-enthusiast would ever think them worthy of doing, not even ironically! And certainly not chained together as Jaune was doing now! It was a dancer's suicide! Cheesy, tacky, corny, altogether shameful!  
  
It was so bad... but... when done with enough heart, where one cast aside pride and technique and form, to just let loose with a primal sense of joy and exultation in the form of moving to the rhythm, the terrifying power of the Boogie Rhythm could be realized.  
  
And Jaune had that enthusiasm and joy in spades.  
  
He embarrassed himself, tossed aside any care for thoughts of others, save that of feeling the music and let his body pull over all the cheesy moves Roland Arc used when teasing his family. Happy memories fueling Jaune's need to just let loose, baring his soul with his movements to feel the music reach ever higher.  
  
From the sidelines, Olivia fainted at the sight of Jaune moonwalking with vigor while throwing out disco fever poses, Indigo and Shani collapsing into hysterics at the sight of his laughing, sweaty face as he shook his hips and sang - mostly off key and with the wrong lyrics - to the song being played. Bianca and Violet tried to get away but he kept pulling them into spins and random arm shakes as he pulled off the most ludicrous moves the sisters had only ever joked about.  
  
Jaune had fun, and let the Boogie Rhythm carry him through to the end of the competition.  
  
The oldest Arc sisters had never stood a chance.  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------

  
It had taken the better part of an hour to restore order to the party after Jaune unleashed the dreaded power of the Boogie Rhythm. In that time, he had been too busy trying to regain his breath after sweating up an ocean from all that dancing. But the gleam in his eyes and the smile on his lips never faded.  
  
"Congrats, Jaune. You won."  
  
Jaune turned to see his sisters, ragged and weary as they were from the competition (and it's ending), giving him smiles of their own. A golden trophy was held in Bianca's hands.  
  
She held it out to her brother, "It was not the most conventional victory. Nor entirely expected. I would have thought you'd need another few years before even dreaming of challenging us. But you did anyway, and succeeded. Well done."  
  
Jaune blinked. "What does convestonal mean?"  
  
Shani roared with laughter, Olivia and Azure merely content to giggle.  
  
"You won, little bro! Now shut it and take your prize!" Indigo ruffled his head as Jaune squawked.  
  
"Ah! Quit it! It's my birthday! I break easy!"  
  
"Indigo! You're supposed to hug him!"  
  
"Whuh?" Jaune managed before he was mobbed with a group hug from his seven big sisters.  
  
"Agh! Can't! Breathe!" Jaune squeaked out from the tangle of limbs and crush of their forms.  
  
Finally they let go and Jaune took the trophy from Bianca. "It's heavy."  
  
"Yup. Enjoy it while it lasts, little Jaune! Because next season, it'll be mine again!" Shani laughed.  
  
"I think you mean mine." Indigo piped up.  
  
"Of course not, my technique is better than all of yours. I'll be the one to win." Sienna argued.  
  
"Nuh uh!"  
  
"No, it's mine!"  
  
"Please! Of course next season is mine."  
  
"Um, I don't really care." Jaune said happily. All of the Seven Deadly Sisters looked to their brother, confused.  
  
Jaune just grinned a happy, though tired, smile. "Because I got to have sooo much fun today! And I got to dance with all of you! And show you just how much you taught me! So thank you, everyone! I can't have won without you all to teach me!"  
  
"AWWWWW!" All the sisters immediately dog-piled Jaune with hugs and love from the adorable-ness and emotion.  
  
"Love you... too... sis... but...  _I! Can't! Breathe!_ "  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------

  
It had been a long night, and Jaune was tired. After waving all the guests good-bye - even if it got chilly, he had to wait outside to say goodbye and wasn't allowed to go back inside until they were gone, because Dad said it was 'polite' - Jaune had finished taking a shower and was dressed in the pyjamas Violet had got him. It was a blue onesie with a rabbit on it, and Mom said it looked good on him. Why his sisters giggled and hurt their noses whenever he wore it around them, Jaune would never know. Especially because they kept putting ribbons in his hair, and then they got worse, and would leave nose-blood everywhere. It made young Jaune very worried, but they seemed alright after a few minutes, so maybe it was okay?  
  
It didn't matter now though. Jaune had finally gotten ready for bed, before he remembered he hadn't had cake yet. All of a sudden, bed-time seemed far less important. A birthday party gone without having birthday cake?  
  
Why, that was just sacwi… sacrila… bad!  _Really_  bad!  
  
No birthday party was complete without having birthday cake. Especially after winning the Arc Family Dancing Competition! Bianca said that having cake after the competition was good luck, and made you heroic! He had to get his cake!  
  
Thankfully, it was right where he left it downstairs. Still untouched in the fridge, waiting for him. It called to him, and he took it before his Mom could catch him and tell him off for eating before bed.  
  
Sneaking back up the stairs, Jaune slipped back into his little room of solitude from his sisters. Shutting the door, Jaune sat on his bed, and picked up the fork. Slowly, he speared the soft, spongy, deliciousness on the tines, and raised it.  
  
After a few moments of solemn appreciation, Jaune placed it in his mouth, and chewed.  
  
It tasted like victory.  
  
" **GREETINGS JAUNE ARC!"**  
  
"Bwwah!"  
  
Jaune fell backwards in shock as time slowed to a halt, the ticking of the clock on the wall slowly freezing in place, the cake freezing in midair above the bedside desk, and the room exploded with light as a  _ **glorious, golden, glowing man with four arms**_  appeared before him. The man was garbed in glittering golden bronze armor, white and dazzling robes as lines and threading of all the colors of the sunrise and sunset shimmering in the immaculate cloth. The man's mighty arms each held an object that burned with intense fervor - a branch of green-gold plants that he remembered Olivia calling a 'laurel', a horn made of some ancient bone inlaid with glistening golden filigree, a spear made of gold that seemed sharp as the light of a dawning sun, a splendid shield of glistening gold that seemed almost like sunlight made metal with the icon of a blazing sun and lines of silver.  
  
The man' face was serene and wise, powerful and heroic, eyes burning with awe inspiring glory and excellence, hair blazing with majesty as a halo of burning light emanated from his visage like a corona of infinite radiance. Upon his magnificent brow was the mark of a starburst or sun radiating light over the world. The clamor of music and echoing choirs of heavenly deities singing of shining magnificence rang in the far distance, deafening yet barely noticeable. In fact, save for the longer hair being a different shade, he looked almost just like the heroic vision of heroic ancestors painted in the annals of Arc Family history! The figure's perfected  **GLORY**  was almost scarring to behold, but Jaune couldn't help but be enraptured by the sheer magnificence of the figure appearing before him. He was told to never stare at bright objects like the lamps and the sun, but he couldn't help it with the figure before him.  
  
He looked so cool!  
  
" **Apologies for the late arrival; I -"**  
  
"It's okay!" Jaune interrupted cheerfully, seemingly out of habit.  
  
The  **Figure**  blinked at the young child that so easily interrupted it. How was the boy speaking? Time had stopped between breaths. And even so, to interrupt…  
  
It took the  **Figure**  a few moments to regain its bearings and get back to what it was here for. Honestly, ever since the Dome had broken down millennia ago, and the Maker had absolutely refused to repair it, the  **Figure**  had been incomparably bored. The only thing that could hold  **His** interest these decades was watching what the mortals were up to. And to one such as  **He**  their lives were rather… amusing. Perhaps he ought to take  _ **Her**_ advice more often and have a more direct hand in things. Which is what brought it here, to Jaune Arc on his eighth birthday. A personal touch. An especially unique, personal touch.  
  
" **As I was saying… Jaune Arc! Blood of My Gift, Blessed Child! I have seen your deeds, and beheld your virtues! You whom are beloved and protected, sheltered and cherished! I have distinguished your determination and measure. I have witnessed your love, your joy and your courage! I have seen your drive to surpass all others, and your thirst to enter the annals of legend. To challenge Fate and shake Heaven if you must! To restore Creation to its true glory! And on this the anniversary of your Eighth Year since birth, I have witnessed your** _ **triumph~!**_  
  
" **I am Ignis Divine, the Uncon - "**  
  
"Are you the Birthday Fairy?!"  
  
" **Huh?"**  
  
The  **Figure**  looked down at the little boy standing on his bed, hopping up and down excitedly.  
  
"You're the Birthday Fairy? Aren't you!"  
  
Once more,  **Ignis Divine**  was speechless. An askance glance at the sunburst hanging from the window-sill proved that this boy was a follower of at least one of  **His**  formal religions (what little of it was left in this forsaken Age). Granted,  **He**  had relinquished some of  **His** more fearsome Virtues in consideration of the boy's age and sanity, but… Was His magnificence so easily forgotten and mistaken in this Age?  
  
" **No, Jaune, I am not the 'Bir-'..."**  
  
The burning golden eyes looked into the innocent, earnest blue of the young boy, the cherubic features rivaling even the most beauteous of  **His**  Chosen from bygone Ages, golden hair so much like his own settled messily atop the boy's crown.  **He**  looked deep into those eyes and saw the joy and excitement that it couldn't bring itself to squash. This was altogether new to  **Him** , as the few Chosen that ever did prove worthy of a personal audience were typically much older. But this was a child and… Accursed Perfection of Compassion. This was why  **He**  avoided direct contact with mortals for centuries. They were so… How could  **He**  say no to that adorable face?  
  
" **Yes my child, I am the Birthday Fairy." Ignis Divine**  sighed. Oh well, might as well roll with it. " **And on this, the anniversary of your birth, I have given you a Gift."**  
  
"Really?" Was it possible for little Jaune's eyes to have gotten any wider and more excited? From the sparkle in their blue depths,  **Ignis Divine**  could truthfully say yes.  
  
" **Indeed. A very special gift."**  
  
"Woah… Awesome! Is it something I can use to be a Huntsman when I'm older? To be a hero like Dad and Grandpa and Great-Grandpa? And Great-Great-Grandpa?" eagerly asked the young boy.  
  
Ignis Divine sagely smiled and nodded. " **A noble endeavour. Indeed, with the Gift I have given you, the whole world might one day know your legend."**  
  
"Wow… That's cool..."  
  
" **Now, go forth, my child! Know that my Eye is no longer turned from Creation, and that where you walk, my Light goes with you, for you are now and forevermore one with the King of Heaven! You are Chosen under the Unconquered Sun, burning with infinite radiance and perfected GLORY! Spread Righteousness and make this lost world a better place!"**  
  
And with that, the figure began to dim, time beginning to start up as Jaune panicked and shouted.  
  
"WAIT! Don't go yet!"  
  
**Ignis Divine**  paused, for the young boy's cry had somehow instantly carried the weight of prayer in this Moment, and  **He Heard**. This was unexpected.  
  
"What is it, my child?"  
  
"Um…" The boy looked away for the first time, seeming bashful and embarrassed. "I, uh, don't have a lot of friends. At all. My sisters say they won't like me, so it's just me and Teddy Bear most days. But you seem nice, and got me a present for my birthday, so… would you be my friend?"  
  
A moment of silence passed as  **Ignis Divine**  regarded the boy before him, who began to fidget under His gaze.  
  
" **Child… you wish ME… to be your... friend?"** The idea of it seemed almost alien to the being, whose impressive golden eyebrow arched. Friends with a mortal? How… amusing. This was how things went so terribly wrong in the past. But with a child?  
  
"Well, why not? My Mom says 'Strangers are just friends you haven't met yet', so how about it? Would you be my friend?"  
  
Little Jaune outstretched a hand for  **Ignis Divine**  to shake, fixing the King of Heaven with an earnest expression of determination on his face.  
  
The Most High of the Incarnae regarded the hand and fierce enthusiasm in the boy's blue eyes before smiling. The golden-green laurel branch hung in mid-air in a corona of golden light as the solar deity let it go and stretched out a hand of  **His**  own to lightly hold the boy's own, tiny fingers curling around two of the Incarnae's larger ones. The boy didn't even flinch at the heat.  
  
" **Alright."**  How could  **He**  say no? When this child asked so earnestly, who was the Unconquered Sun to refuse?  
  
"Right!" Jaune exclaimed happily, shaking the mighty hand of the Most High. "The name's Jaune Arc! Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it~!"  
  
**His**  smile grew even greater, with a low chuckle that resounded at the heart like the crack of thunder and the break of dawn at the boy's declaration. How amusing. Truly, the boy was a most excellent pick for this matter of 'experiment', and hopefully a worthwhile investment of this effort on his and Lytek's part. " **And I am Ignis Divine. To creation, Sol Invictus, The Unconquered Sun. Your…** _ **Birthday Fairy..**_ **."**  
  
"And now we're friends!" Jaune couldn't be happier. This was an awesome birthday. He'd won the Arc Family Dance Competition. He'd had a lot of fun. He'd had excellent cake. And he'd gotten a new friend who got him a cool gift he couldn't wait to see! Possibly the best birthday ever.  
  
" **Indeed. Go now, my child, and spread righteousness as you know best and make this world a better place!"**  
  
And in a flash, time resumed. The plate of cake clattered on the desk, the hands of the clock began to move and tick once more, and Ignis Divine was gone.  
  
"Hey!" Jaune cried out indignantly as he looked around for where his new friend had disappeared. "You forgot to give me my birthday present!"  
  
No one answered  
  
"Birthday Fairy? Where did you go?"  
  
Frowning, Jaune set about to looking for his present. Maybe the Birthday Fairy hid it. Like the Tooth-Wizard! Violet had told him to tell Mom and Dad when he lost a tooth, so when he put it under a pillow, the Tooth-Wizard would visit in the middle of the night, and take it and give him a present in return!  
  
"Maybe it's under the pillow! No? Right, that's just Tooth-Wizard. Wait, maybe the Birthday Fairy hides things somewhere else. Under the bed? Wait, no, that's where monsters hide. Good thing Teddy Bear is here to protect me! Humph. Not under the bed. The closet? No… Drawers? Hmn… where is it?"  
  
Jaune looked high and low, tearing apart his bedroom in search of the hidden gift. Not even the sanctity of Jaune's hamper of dirty laundry had been spared from his search. In the course of an hour, it looked as if a bomb had gone off in the room, and it was only due to the fact that everyone was too busy staying up and watching a big-kids movie downstairs that no one wondered about the noise.  
  
Eventually, fatigue finally overcame the young Arc child and he curled up under the covers, pouting and sulking about the stupid Birthday Fairy who was awesome but far too good at hiding presents. Tomorrow morning, he'd get up really early and search the whole House for it! Maybe even look in his sister's' "forbidden" drawers, just in case! He didn't knew if the Birthday Fairy was devious enough to do that!  
  
And all the while, he never noticed that the light of the room came not from the bulbs left on in the room, but cascaded off his little, glowing-white form, and that a golden mark of glorious radiance rested upon his brow.  


 

\----------------------------- I WILL BE THE HERO! -----------------------------


	2. Chapter 2: The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy

So raiding his sisters’ “forbidden” drawers hadn’t been the best of ideas. Not only did he get his tushy handed to him when Sienna caught him rifling through her under-things and the others noticed that their own dressers had been ransacked, but Jaune also learned that his status as “beloved little brother” couldn’t protect him from everything.  
  
  
Which was really quite unfair, because until his birthday, they didn’t really get angry at him for very long. Mostly because Jaune would get very bummed out and sulk, sometimes cry, as he bemoaned his fate to be hated by his sister.  
  
  
Honestly, he didn’t know what he did wrong!  
  
  
Was it because he was a boy? Was this one of those ‘girl things’ Dad told him he’d only learn when he was older? Mom was always really strict about that. She got scary whenever Dad wanted to give Jaune his advice. Which always made Jaune really confused, because Dad was really smart, so if he was teaching Jaune, shouldn’t that be good? Mom always said learning was a good thing, but not from Dad apparently.  
  
  
Still, Jaune did whatever he could to get back in his sisters’ good graces. Most of them would be leaving again for school in a week, and Mom had grounded him for upsetting his older sisters. He couldn’t just leave this be! If they left and were still mad at him, then they’d never stop being mad at him! Then they’d always hate him forever, and ever! And he’d never get any hugs from them!  
  
  
Hugs were awesome.  
  
  
And losing them was… unthinkable!  
  
  
Really! He couldn’t imagine it!  
  
  
Weird though, he didn’t remember liking hugs all that much before his birthday, but that didn’t matter right now.  
  
  
So Jaune continued to pout and sulk, and wait for the answer to come to him. Because usually saying sorry and meaning it worked, but it didn’t now. And Dad couldn’t help because Mom was yelling at Dad about ‘teaching Jaune weird things’. Dad said he did nothing, but Mom wouldn’t have it because Dad apparently looked for presents in dressers when he was Bianca’s age, and shouted at Dad for leading Jaune to do the same. She wouldn’t have another “purr-bird” in the family - Dad was enough. Dad looked hurt by that, but Jaune didn’t understand what was wrong with being a cat-bird, and how Dad was apparently one of them.  
  
  
“But why is that wrong? I was just looking for the Birthday Fairy’s gifts! But he hid them, and I couldn’t find it in  _my_  room, so I had to look everywhere! And Sienna said she got visited by the Birthday Fairy and needed bigger clothes, so I thought the Birthday Fairy put  _my_  present in Sienna’s room by mistake!”  
  
  
Dad instantly paled, and Mom choked on air. Shani was nearby and started laughing, and the other sisters who heard got really red, quickly crossing their arms, and shifting uneasily. Sienna, on the other hand, looked like she had been struck by lightning and started stammering out excuses.  
  
  
“Jaune… The Birthday Fairy only visits girls as they, uh, grow up.” Bianca tried to explain tactfully. Of the sisters, only she had been spared Jaune’s search. Mostly because he hadn’t gotten to her room yet when he got caught.  
  
  
“But I saw him yesterday.” he pouted.  
  
  
“Jaune, you’re too young to be visited by the…  _Birthday Fairy_. And you’re not a girl, so the Birthday Fairy won’t come to you till you’re… er, thirteen or so.” Roland Arc said, before his wife’s withering glare had him quickly adding, “At youngest.” This was most certainly not the time for the Arc Family Father-Son Talk.  
  
  
“But I saw him!”  
  
  
“Jaune, you should know better than to make up stories when you get in trouble. What did I tell you about lying?” his mother admonished.  
  
  
“I’m not!”  
  
  
“Jaune!”  
  
  
“I saw him! I did!” shouted young Jaune, stamping his foot impudently.  
  
  
“Jaune Arc! You do not shout at your mother! Go to your room, you’re grounded!”  
  
  
“But I’m not lying! The Birthday Fairy was here, and he hid my gift and I have to find it!”  
  
  
“Room!”  
  
  


\---------------------The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy---------------------

  
  
On the upside, being confined to his room gave Jaune a very good view of the Arc Family Backyard. Like all other backyards, the Arc Family Backyard was a yard behind the chateau. It was a nice, wide expanse, cleared of trees and excess undergrowth that the forests, which the residence of the Arc family bordered, were overflowing with.  
  
  
Jaune wasn’t allowed to wander into those woods. There were always strange noises coming from far away, probably inside the heart of the forest, and there were always many stories to be heard of people who went into the woods behind Jaune’s home and never came back. Many called them the Lost Woods for that reason, but the Arc’s knew many ways and trails through those woods, and even as a boy, Jaune was never lost. He was just not allowed to wander more than a league from the chateau, and a quarter that if he were within the Lost Woods. While Grimm were fain to venture so close to the home of the Arc’s, that didn’t stop the mortal creatures that called the Lost Woods home from wandering upon the young boy as he played along a brook.  
  
  
But the foreboding trees and haunting airs of the wind passing through the boughs of the ancient wood weren’t the focus of Jaune’s concentration in the days of his punishment. No, watching his father and sisters train outside while contemplating when they’d finally forgive him was the subject of his thoughts.  
  
  
Perhaps if he made a cake? Dad did that once when Mom was mad at him. But Jaune wasn’t allowed to touch anything in the kitchen, so that was out. And he couldn’t go out to get his sister’s flowers. Most of the really pretty ones meant going into the woods, and Jaune was grounded - he couldn’t leave the house. And after the last attempt at “art” resulted in the sisters fighting over Jaune’s ‘masterpiece’, Jaune wasn’t allowed to use that to apologize too. He could maybe get one of them to forgive him by giving her the title of “favorite sister”, but then the other six would hate him more. It had been almost a week, and if he didn’t figure something out soon, they’d leave and hate him forever.  
  
  
So Jaune resolved to pouting and being forever hated by his beloved sisters, hoping that they’d show him mercy and forgive him. In truth, his sisters loved their brother far too much to hate him as he believed they might. But Jaune didn’t know this, and his sisters allowed him that misconception - he was far more willing to do things for them when he wanted their favor. Thus, Jaune sulked in his room while Dad, Bianca, and Violet trained outside.  
  
  
It was a rare delight to see them train in the Arc Family Backyard. Things always got broken whenever any of his sisters truly tried to fight, but that was because his sisters were the best. Especially Bianca and Violet, who were old enough to be training to be Huntresses. Which meant they were really strong, of course. So for them to train with Dad in the backyard meant that today was devoted solely to weapon-skills.  
  
  
As an 8-year old, Jaune wasn’t sure what a lot of phrases big people used actually meant, but when it came to watching his Dad use a blade, he understood what “poetry in motion” meant.  
  
  


\---------------------The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy---------------------

  
  
Bianca and Violet circled their father slowly, searching for an opening. Violet kept slightly further back, as her weapons lended themselves better to skirmishing than straightforward dueling like Bianca was capable of. So as the eldest of the Seven Deadly Sisters held her short-hafted, long-blade spear (more a sword-on-a-stick than a spear, as Shani joked) at the ready, steps light and measured, the second of the sisters readied her daggertails from each bracer, keeping sure to be slightly off Bianca’s angle of attack to support from behind with her far more flexible weapons.  
  
  
Their strategy would likely fall quickly to their father’s superior experience, but that was the object of the lesson. To learn from their father’s superior Sword Arts.  
  
  
Roland Arc himself stood in the center of the yard, the family heirloom, Crocea Mors in hand. The tall man had forgone the safety of carrying the shield, the mechanical shield-sheath propped against the wall by the patio door, and clad solely in his leather jerkin rather than his heavier plate. He was training with his daughters, not fighting Grimm, but Jaune could feel the pressure exuded by the man as his sisters circled. With only one hand on the handle of the old sword, held before him with naked blade, the man kept track of both his daughters - one with his eyes before him, the other in the reflection of the ancient metal.  
  
  
Jaune couldn’t believe he’d never noticed it before, but Bianca and Violet hadn’t just been circling because they wanted to annoy their dad with waiting. He realized they were circling because their father could respond within three paces, and had no exploitable blind-spot. But now he was seeing the permutations stemming from sheer possibility through his father’s footwork, refined till there was an answer to all questions asked within the territory of Roland’s three paces.  
  
  
Then their father shifted one foot.  
  
  
Violet’s daggertails leaped from the ground, striking at off-center angles, the blades quickly swatted away by Roland’s quick sword as Bianca rushed in. The thrust of her spear was dodged, blade up to block the sweeping cut of the spear that followed. Bianca pressed the assault, flashing long-blade of her spear flickering in her hands like a sword, the haft’s length allowing the Sister to exert tremendous control over her weapon, diverted strikes returning with unerring accuracy.  
  
  
Her strikes fell like the crash of waterfall, scything arcs rushing at multiple angles to strike a thousand cuts. But Roland’s sword was just as fast, glinting steel darting to turn and redirect the thrusts and cuts of the blade with almost minimal effort. It didn’t seem like the tall man was even trying too hard to Jaune.  
  
  
 _Executioner Without Shadow!_  
  
  
Roland ducked out of nowhere, Bianca’s daggertails flashing in the space where his head had been, the Second Sister in the air, legs spread above her like wings as the bladed whips danced below, failing to encircle the man’s head.  
  
  
Crocea Mors darted out as Roland had crouched, and the man shifted his weight to duck out of Bianca’s immediate range. The sword thrust into the failed cage of Violet’s weapons, and allowed itself to be caught in Roland’s place. Then as the blades whined from getting caught on the sword, with a single heave Roland pulled his daughter out of the sky.  
  
  
Yelping, Violet twisted in the air to soften her landing, getting her legs under her to roll out of the fall, but not without tugging hard enough with her twists to rip Crocea Mors out of her father’s hands. Roland seemed mildly amused, but Bianca didn’t hesitate to take the advantage.  
  
  
With a thumbing of the hidden mechanism, the spear’s haft elongated, nearly doubling in length as it thrust towards her weaponless father like the shot of a cannon. The man whirled, arms circling to trap the spear in his grip, before bringing his shoulder underneath. The spear jerked in Roland’s hands, Bianca unwilling to relinquish her weapon and it’s superior reach nor allow her father to close in. A twist of the wrist, Roland’s hold was broken and the blade sliced through the air to take the man’s head. Time seemed to slow. Roland’s hips jerked forward, dropping to his knees in time to lean back as the spear blade clipped the edges of his beard.  
  
  
Then with a clean jerk, Roland leaned the other way, rolling into a forward tumble as his daughter gave chase, heading towards the fallen sword. Violet wouldn’t let him, daggertails whirling to create a defensive barrier of blades, the whipping-edges darting to circle Roland’s outstretched hand and tear it to shreds. But Roland’s hand jerked back just as the trap closed, then darted forward once more, while the man was still in mid-air, snatching the blade as he landed, feet slamming the daggertail blades to the ground. Weapons trapped, Violet snarled as she closed the distance, loosening the tension in the daggertails.  
  
  
Then the Second Sister broke her advance, darting to the side. Roland’s eyes widened in surprise, sword flashing up as he spun to parry the spear thrust aimed at the back of his neck.  
  
  
Blade met blade as Crocea Mors met Bianca’s spear, and Jaune marveled as Roland took to the air. The released daggertails streaked back towards Violet’s bracers as Bianca kept their father busy. The ringing of steel sounded just as loudly as the grunts of effort from the two daughters as Roland pressured his daughters, sword slipping past Violet’s attempts to trap the weapon for Bianca to exploit.  
  
  
Jaune marveled at the display as the three warriors whirled, each a storm of steel and skill. They were like whirlwinds, dancing on the grasses of the yard in constant motion. And this was just practice, where they were holding back.  
  
  
Bianca lunged forward, and Jaune somehow recognized the foot-work.  
  
  
 _Hound Chasing Hares!_  
  
  
Like the rapid chase of hunting dogs after a racing hare, the spear chased Roland where he went, unable to dodge the darting weapon which seemed to multiply into many hungry beasts.  
  
  
Roland retorted with an offensive of his own, darting past his daughter with the feather-step, lazily sweeping a strike in passing, only just barely blocked by the spear’s haft. His feet skimmed the tops of the short grass, dancing around his daughters as he foiled Violet’s dagger-tails with his sword. He was like a feather caught by the breeze, but his sword was steady and fierce!  
  
  
“Vi!” Bianca called as she didn’t stop moving forward from her failed assault. Violet caught the idea, leaping into the air as Bianca steadied her spear and feet beneath her. Violet’s light feet graced the flat of the First Sister’s spear, crouching as the whipping daggertails coiled at the ready.  
  
  
The grass and dirt scuffed as Bianca launched herself at their father, a shout on her lips as she whirled the spear at Roland. Sent shooting forward on Bianca’s spear, Violet shot forward with a great leap, streaking towards the taller man in a twister of steel as the daggertails whirled around her spinning form.  
  
  
 _Rotation of Chained Storm Dragons!_  
  
  
Roland narrowed his eyes, and Jaune held his breath.  
  
  
 _Formless Sword: Four Petal Lotus Defense!_  
  
  
The twister of steel that was Violet’s whirling daggertails impacted the flat of Crocea Mors, scraping edges twisting and screaming as they failed to break the defense of Roland’s Formless Sword, the impenetrable petals of Roland’s technique standing resolute against the storm of steel like a mountain standing eternal.  
  
  
The moment Violet leaped away, assault foiled, Roland flashed into motion.  
  
  
 _Seven Heavenly Steps,_  Jaune noted, without knowing why.  
  
  
Faster than you could blink, Roland was in the air by his daughter, slamming the pommel of Crocea Mors into Violet’s back. Violet let out a shout as the blow sent her reeling and dazed with the same efficacy as a tiger subduing a chital. There was a crash as the teen smashed into the ground, groaning as the whipping blades fell limp and still. She struggled, but lay still, knowing by the rules of the Sisters’ spars that she had lost.  
  
  
 _Spear Art: Forbidden Gate of Heaven!_  
  
  
Bianca didn’t give Roland a rest, pressing him back and away from Violet’s vulnerable form, spear flashing with the might of her technique, treating the haft of her spear like a staff to block her father’s press while lashing with the point and butt of the weapon to gain ground. Any assault was met with immediate counters and retribution, the whirling sword-staff that was Bianca’s spear cutting off all approaches, negating all lines of influence and direction. The young woman’s fierce stance pressured her father, preventing advance and retreat, trapping the warrior in the avalanche of steel.  
  
  
It lasted until Crocea Mors clashed with the blade of Bianca’s spear, flat against flat, and froze in place. With a growl, Bianca tried to force the blades to part, but the spear wouldn’t move in her hands. Roland smirked, as Jaune stared in awe.  
  
  
With only one hand on the sword, it seemed like his father had made the blades stick like glue where they touched, the two dancing around as they pressed forward and back, their blades never separating. Despite how much Bianca attempted to wrestle control of the clash, Roland only needed one hand to control their weapons, like puppets on a string.  
  
  
Then with a single jerk, Roland stole Bianca’s spear, leaping into his offhand as he whirled his daughter’s blade against her.  
  
  
The cold steel of the spear tip rested on the First Deadly Sister’s neck before she could step away. Bianca gulped.  
  
  
“Dad! Sis! Lunch time!”  
  
  
In an instant, the weapons were cleared away, and Bianca had carried Violet inside, Roland announcing that they couldn’t slack off if they expected to be the top of their Academies.  
  
  
Jaune was frozen in awe for a minute after they had departed, the images of the spar still playing in his mind. That was amazing! He couldn’t wait till his dad taught him how to do all that!  
  
  
He could imagine it now, standing strong with a sword in hand, cutting a swath of ruination as he fought legions of monsters to save the day! Like his ancestors in the stories!  
  
  
“Jaune, lunch!”  
  
  
“Coming Sis!”  
  
  
Just you wait, Birthday Fairy! One day, when he was older, Jaune would be a hero, like you said!  
  
  


\---------------------The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy---------------------

  
  
“Whew, Dad, you sure didn’t pull much back with that last strike!” Violet complained, stretching both arms overhead.  
  
  
“Violet, you know you’re vulnerable in the air. Especially after a maneuver like that. Speaking of, what possessed you to even try something like that?”  
  
  
“My idea,” admitted Bianca.  
  
  
“Well, it was a good idea. If I hadn’t been quick enough to defend…”  
  
  
“I thought you guys were amazing!” Jaune said excitedly, waving his fork in the air.  
  
  
“Hey, Jaune, careful with that thing!”  
  
  
“Sorry Olivia.”  
  
  
“Heh, we do our best, short-stuff.” Violet smirked, chest puffed with pride before wincing.  
  
  
“But we could always do better.” Bianca admitted to Violet’s scowl.  
  
  
Roland nodded. “Your teamwork still needs work, and you both started getting frustrated when I managed to hold you too off. Depriving me of my sword worked well in the beginning, but you failed to keep me from retrieving it. Without Crocea Mors, your spear and daggertails would have been too dangerous to deal with unarmed, and forced a far quicker end.”  
  
  
“So, what you’re saying is you got mad too when we took your sword, and almost got you, huh, old man?”  
  
  
Roland shot Violet a dirty look. The Second Sister was unphased.  
  
  
“Not how I would put it…”  
  
  
“Well, you two were still really cool, Bianca! Violet! I wanna be like you guys when I grow up!” Jaune smiled excitedly.  
  
  
Bianca had a soft smile on her lips as she glanced at Violet, Azure and Olivia, the only other sisters at home that afternoon. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to stay out of our drawers then, won’t you, Jaune?”  
  
  
Jaune pouted, sulking again.  
  
  
“I said I was sorry…”  
  
  
“We know.” echoed the girls at the table. Their father just grinned.  
  
  
“So… Jaune. Whose weapon did you think was better?” Violet leaned over. “Mine or Binky’s?”  
  
  
“Don’t call me Binky.”  
  
  
The second sister merely grinned at Bianca’s murderous glare. Bianca hated the nickname, and Violet never let her forget it. “Bi then? Then we can be Bi and Vi!”  
  
  
“No. A thousand times, no.”  
  
  
“Girls…” Roland cleared his throat, silencing them both. “Don’t make me use your middle names.”  
  
  
“Sorry Dad.” “We’ll be good.” The two shot each other short looks, then promptly returned to their meals.  
  
  
“Now, I’m going to finish up some of the chores around the house, and if we have time before dinner, I’ll teach you all something new, alright?”  
  
  
“Even Olivia and I? And Jaune?” Azure asked.  
  
  
“Sure. But only if you’ve finished your school assignments for the break.”  
  
  
Azure perked up at this immensely, bookworm she was. It was rare that the younger sisters were given the opportunity to listen in on the older siblings’ “lessons”. Mom and Dad said they were too hard for kids, so any chance to learn cool new stuff from ages past was always a delight. Especially from Dad, who liked to make things into stories.  
  
  
Jaune was just happy to be a part of his sisters’ training. It was like a warm-up for his own in the future. And the fact that having been grounded gave him plenty of time to have finished his assignments already was just icing on the cake.  
  
  


\---------------------The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy---------------------

“Now, Bianca, Violet, I know you’re both likely learning much of this at the Academies - or will, anyways - but there are some lessons that are best learned by example. Take, for instance, this.”  
  


Roland merely stepped to an easel and began to draw with chalk. With sinuous grace belying his frame, the man sketched out an object of beauty. A flower with many petals.  
  


“What do you see?”  
  


“A flower!” Jaune said enthusiastically. Roland smiled.  
  


“Not quite, Jaune. What kind of flower?”  
  


“A lotus.” Violet answered.  
  


“Correct. A lotus. Now, can you imagine, how such a thing may be dangerous?”  
  


Azure frowned. “Dad, it’s a flower. Lotus’ are pretty, sure, but they float on water, and have a lot of petals. They’re not poisonous, they aren’t used by Grimm or monsters or Wyld-creatures… what’s so dangerous?”  
  


“Because they’re symbols.”  
  


Roland beamed beatifically at Bianca.  
  


“Yes. The lotus is a powerful symbol. It’s representations are many, and it’s meanings grant it far more strength than its appearance might suggest. Huntsman-Instructors like to use the lotus as an analogy for various topics, but those are not the point of this lesson. Now, see this,” He continued to draw on the easel, starting with a few concentric circles, before spreading lines from the center to span the image. “What do you see.”  
  


“A wheel. Like from a cart?”  
  


“Good. It seems I’m not such a bad artist, huh?” Roland joked. “But now let me draw a bird in flight,” The chalk quickly let the image of a raptor’s silhouette as seen from the heavens, wings spread as to blot out the sky, before it was joined by a hexagonal shell from which the head and tail meekly poked out, “and a tortoise, hiding from danger. What’s the connection?”  
  


“You drew them?”  
  


Roland raised a brow. “No… Think more military.”  
  


“They’re formations in war.”  
  


All heads turned to Jaune, who was startled by the sudden attention. Hadn’t it been obvious?  
  


“Yes, Jaune. Military formations.” The chalk moved quickly, adding details and layering the rough sketches of the lotus, the wheel, the bird, the tortoise, with lines and notations for troop placement and facing instruction.  
  


“The lotus, in many senses, can bloom in all directions, but is also beautiful and delicate. But upon entering the lotus, one may find themselves assaulted by a multitude of blades, like the myriad petals of the lotus.”  
  


“And the wheel?”  
  


Roland picked up a plate and spun it carefully on his finger. “The wheel spins, and spins. On the whole, this formation may not seem like much from the outside, and it truly is difficult to notice as it forms.”  
  


Then a coin was tossed onto the plate before the plate was spun again, captured by the motion and brought whirling about on the huntsman’s finger with the plate. “But if you’re captured as the wheel forms, you can be drawn into it’s center, isolated from allies beyond the wheel, and assaulted upon from any direction.”  
  


“So the bird is for hunting an enemy, and the tortoise for defensive maneuvers?” Bianca queried.  
  


“Makes sense,” Violet opined. “The bird is a raptor, and can form suddenly, and strike in one direction, but still move quickly. The tortoise is good for holing up and staying put, defending against an opponent on all sides, if you’ve got the numbers to make it work.”  
  


“Yes. As huntresses, and huntsman,” Roland nodded to Jaune, who smiled at being included. “most of your training will be in small unit tactics. And these are times of peace, ever since the Great War, these tactics have been found to be… well, they simply aren’t used very much.”  
  


“Why not?”  
  


“Because these tactics are for formations which work better with greater numbers. Say, a wing, rather than a talon. But also because they are most effective against opponents who aren’t as bestial as the Grimm, capable of stratagems of their own, and skill more in line with those of regimented soldiers.”  
  


“So why learn them? If they’re outdated, what’s the point?”  
  


“Because, Azure,” their father smirked, “the lesson is that formations can come from many sources of inspiration. And that their ideas can be applied to huntsman and huntress fire-teams as well. While the lotus formation is hardly useful without an array of spearmen ready in all directions as a readied counter attack, and the tortoise useless without the array of shields needed to form it, a swordsman’s blade can still readily mimic the myriad petals of the lotus, unfolding with grace in every direction. One’s shield can still become like the shell of a tortoise, minimizing your profile behind a defensive barrier.”  
  


“But not all of us use a sword or spear, and we don’t all use shields either.” Violet mimed to her wrists, where her daggertails were usually strapped and ready for use.

 

“Which is why you must seek inspiration elsewhere. Many a martial artist will emulate aspects of nature, forces of power and various other lessons as learned from the world around them. One wouldn’t think a praying mantis would be much of a threat, yet you’ve seen on the Net videos of that Mantis Stylist winning bouts in the Mistrali Invitational, remember?”  
  


Jaune remembered. The young man had dressed in black and greens, and his stance was weird, hands clenched like half-fists with his index finger curling downwards. It seemed funny to Jaune back then, but he remembered seeing how fast the man had moved, and the way he’d disarmed his opponent, then proceeded to break the bones in his opponent's’ arm with just a few strange pinches.  
  


“Take inspiration from the things around you, and you’ll find yourself learning lessons in the strangest of places, from the most unlikely of teachers.”  
  


  
\---------------------The Boy Who Cried Birthday Fairy---------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, this installment of Lawgiver of a New Age features Jaune sulking, an awkward conversation, really low-level sparring for the Arcs, and some foreshadowing. And Jaune still hasn’t found the present. ;P Not much done on Jaune’s end, but he’s 8 and grounded. What did you expect? Next chapter, we’ll see charms in actual use. Probably. Though, Jaune won't know he's using Exalt-magic though.
> 
> Kudos, bragging rights, and the ability to name a minor NPC go out to anyone who can catch all the references, not to RWBY and Exalted but other works and properties, I (intentionally) made in this chapter and in the future! Those who catch the unintentional references... well, they get to brag about how attentive they are. :p


	3. Par for the Cours Élémentaire

The wanderer sat to the side of the tea-house, his thick, brown traveling cloak hung along the back of his seat. Droplets of water cascaded off the bottom to run along the wooden planks of the tea-house floor, slipping between the cracks to wet the packed dirt below, snow that had gathered on the cloak’s shoulders melting rapidly, yet not drying as quick.  
  
The traveler had attempted to sit as close to the roaring hearth as possible, but the warmth of the fire was popular in tea-houses in the North, and thus the people of Solitas favored those seats above all others. This didn’t bother the traveler in the slightest - people like him were a dime a dozen in the tribal lands of the northern continent, and he wasn’t about to begrudge another of the fire’s warmth.  
  
Besides, he had a thick coat, lined with leather and his collars and cuffs sported coarse fur. Heavy boots dried next to his chair, leaving him in his wooly socks, gloves still clutching the cup of hot cocoa. No one paid him any mind - folk like him were common on the roads of Solitas, especially with the large backpack leaned against the table. Similarly with the short blades sheathed at his hips. Just another traveler heading towards Atlas to try and make it in the big city.  
  
Funny.  
  
The traveler was actually heading in the other direction.  
  
“Hmn… needs sugar,” hummed the traveler under his breath, sipping on the hot cocoa. Sugar was a valuable commodity in these parts. He didn’t have the desire to spend the extra for that little difference in taste. The traveler did ignore the hypocrisy of judgement stemming from the fact that he’d already spent quite a good deal of money simply ordering the cup of hot cocoa when tea might have sufficed as well. Or perhaps coffee - a far more common export from the other continents, made readily available in virtually every tea-house.  
  
But most men of the north prefered to warm their bellies and ruddy their noses with alcohol of various sorts - tradition, in a sense, given the difficulties of farming in a land with short summers and harsh winters, much of which was covered in glacial ice and snow-storms which picked up at a moment’s notice in the wilderer areas.  
  
The traveler didn’t care much for whiskey at the moment though. He had been traveling by foot for days, crossing borders and leaving the official reaches of the “Kingdom” to reach the other tribal kingdoms that marked the landscape of Solitas.  
  
Gone were the days of the nomads who wandered the cold north, as the advent of innovation and the technological revolution of Atlas had led to the settling down of the barbarian kingdoms into their towns and forts, establishing the network of kingdoms and city-states that made Solitas the land of the strong. The chieftains who ruled the tribes had transitioned to become the lords of their cities and towns, building walls from dark stone drawn out of the cold mountains, brokering deals with few tribes that persisted in their ways and establishing safe havens for the people of the North against the degradations of wild beasts and Grimm.  
  
The traveler found the concept somewhat amusing, as the struggle for survival shifted gears from the tribal conflict against the forces of nature to the struggle against one’s own fellow man. Nevertheless, trade had flourished, and over the course of the centuries, it seemed like Solitas had all but forgotten her “barbaric” ways.  
  
On another day, the traveler would have snorted derisively at the thought. But he was trying not to sniffle, lest he exacerbate his cold, red nose. His mucous had frozen out there, and the heat of the fire was melting it swiftly. But still, he didn’t want to seem like he had a cold.  
  
Mother had said he should wear a scarf while playing outside, or he’d catch a cold. And then she would tie it around his neck for him, that hideous rag of mismatched colors that somehow got dirtier the more it was cleaned. As a boy he had constantly protested, but he wore it nonetheless, lest his mother beat him with the switch for his lip. He hadn’t gotten a cold, whenever he wore it, but that was simply because he was a healthy lad with a strong constitution and tolerance for the cold.  
  
He hated that scarf. It was at the bottom of his pack, to this day, and continued to taunt him.  
  
The traveler wouldn’t let his mother win that argument by getting sick when he hadn’t worn it.  
  
“Still no word from Tjoll-sharn?”  
  
“None. Why? You keep asking if that merchant is back with word.”  
  
“You don’t know? Roan’s little girl ran off with that Sedar bloke.”  
  
The traveler glanced over at another table where a baker and a tailor had been gossiping. Tjoll-sharn, it was a small village off the beaten path. Sweet-potatoes, if he remembered right. The traveler tried not to sniffle again from now runny nose as he idly picked at the dirt under his long finger-nails.  
  
“Yeah, remember that. I’m not deaf, Braun. I hear things like that. Happened years ago, though. You saying they’re up there in Tjoll-sharn?”  
  
“Yeah, word is they got a shack up there, grow potatoes and all that.”  
  
“Huh. Well, that explains why Roan’s missing. He finally figure out they were up there?”  
  
“And got his boys and some iron to bring her back home.” The smith nodded.  
  
“Ouch. That’s gotta be messy. ‘Splains why he hasn’t been around for a week. Weren’t those two families feuding up there too?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s a right mess. Those farmers have been at each other’s throats for ages, and now Roan’s gonna show up with a cart full of iron and start something.”  
  
“Ah, so that’s why you… you’re a right gossip, Braun.”  
  
The smith mocked a swing to slap the back of the tailor’s head, easily ducked at the indignant cry of the tailor. “Oy, that’s my steel they’re using, Ocker. And Roan ought to have been back by now, either with little Petti or no. And the merchant is late coming through, too.”  
  
“You don’t suppose they ran into trouble on the road, do you?”  
  
“Maybe. But that Luggerio fella travels with a Huntsman, and Roan’s not half-bad with a blade himself. Hell, no one’s even heard from Tjoll-sharn in a month.”  
  
“Hmn. Grimm, then, I bet. Damn them.”  
  
“Damn them all.”  
  
The traveler tuned them out from then. His cocoa was going to get cold. A quick glance after a long sip showed he’d almost run out. Pity. It was nice and warm, and a sweet respite from the tasteless and miserably cold back-country roads of Solitas. And he really needed to save his money after splurging like this. Not much chance to earn a living, doing what he did, but the traveler didn’t mind.  
  
Draining his cup, he noted the boots were finally dry, and the cloak, while still covered in moisture, was serviceable. Shrugging back into his traveling attire, he laid some lien on the table to pay for the cocoa with a little extra for the waitress and picked up his rucksack, hoisting the large back over a shoulder as he headed out. No one paid him much mind.  
  
Travelers like him were a dime a dozen on the roads of Solitas. Even if most of them didn’t bother walking about in the cold of night.  
  
And it looked like he might have business to take care of in Tjoll-sharn before he went on his way.  
  
The coarsely furred ears that popped out from the tangled mane of his steel grey hair did nothing to alleviate the cold winds as the traveler went on his way under the light of the shatterd moon.  
  


\-------------------------Par for the Cours Élémentaire-------------------------

  
Nino was worried.  
  
“Jaune? Where are you?”  
  
As of late, his friend Jaune had been disappearing around lunch-time. The moment the bell was rung and everyone was released from morning classes, Jaune was out the door, and gone. For the first hour of lunch, he was nowhere to be found, only coming back to school in the later half of the break to play.  
  
It was rather worrying, but none of the other boys in class knew where he was. They’d taken to questioning him about it, but he would keep deflecting awkwardly, running away whenever they tried to force it out of him.  
  
And it wasn’t like the teachers would be of any help. Adults were useless! All the boys in the class understood this.  
  
Well, except Max, but Max was far too much of a teacher’s pet to be trusted with much. Shiny red apple on the desk and everything. It was sickening. How he and Kim hung out together, Nino didn’t know. It was probably because Kim liked playing with Max’s dog after school.  
  
Though, challenging the dog to a race every twenty minutes was weird - but that was Kim. It was a common sight around time to see Kim racing something. It was almost as common to see Kim losing these races. Still, there was no one faster on the track in their year than Kim.  
  
Nevertheless, despite Kim and Max being thick of thieves, the two were absolutely useless - Jaune wasn’t interested in sports like Kim, and found math to be boring unlike Max. The two didn’t care a whit about what Jaune was doing.  
  
But Nino was worried. Jaune was a decent singer, and girly-accessories aside, the young Lahiffe boy couldn’t help but think that the boy’s girlish looks had gotten him into trouble.  
  
Again.  
  
Honestly, it was weird how non-plussed a guy could be about being in pig-tails. Nino had short hair so he never had to worry about that, but Jaune’s hair was, well, really well maintained. Other guys got their hairs really messy, but for as long as Nino had known Jaune, the blonde’s hair was almost never without issue. The other girls in the class were obscenely jealous.  
  
Nino suspected it was the work of Jaune’s sisters.  
  
To be fair though, it was woefully unfair that a nice guy like Jaune had seven sisters. It must be awful to be him, living in a house with seven older sisters like that.  
  
Still, he could admit they were pretty.  
  
But enough daydreaming about Jaune’s pretty older sisters!  
  
“Hey, Monsieur, you see Jaune come by this way?” Nino asked the passing grocer.  
  
“Roland’s boy? Sorry, kid. Haven’t seen him today,” the grocer shook his head sadly. “But I heard from the Father he’s been around the church lately.”  
  
Nino brightened. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah. Why, playing hide and seek?”  
  
“Something like that,” Nino smiled mischievously. “He’s been really good at hiding these days, we just have to catch him!”  
  
“Hah! You kids… well, don’t tell him I told you then, huh?” the grocer winked at the young mocha-skinned boy. “Or I’ll be in trouble as a co-conspirator.”  
  
“A cocoa-spitter?”  
  
“A snitch.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The grocer laughed. “Well, run along Nino. Don’t get in too much trouble, you here! And tell your mother I’ll have fresh tomatoes tomorrow, she’s been pestering me last few days about that.”  
  
“Will do, Monsieur!”  
  
Nino ran off towards the church. The streets of Orleans weren’t very well organized. Granted, he knew no other streets, given his parents had moved into town when he was but a baby. He raced through the alleys of his town, heading towards the church tower looming over the rooftops, where the bells would soon peal noon.  
  


\-------------------------Par for the Cours Élémentaire-------------------------

  
In. Out. In. Out.  
  
The motions of the exercise were engraved in Jaune’s mind. The breathing pattern was simple, yet efficient. Each stage was characterised by either breathing in, or breathing out. The stretches not only loosened the body, but strained the muscles, testing them so they’d flow smoothly. Changing the positions was done with grace and ease.  
  
His body arched back, arms spreading from his sides to point back, before moving down as his face met his knees, hands at his ankles. His right leg went back as his spine arched again, face greeting the sun above, before the left foot joined the right and his body swooped down, before reaching up to gaze upon the sun again. Then in reverse to return to the start. Twelve stages, breathing in and out with the momentary hold as each position was held for a few seconds, before moving to the next. The exercise was repeated nine times. He couldn’t get to the twelve just yet, and nine left him sweaty.  
  
But he was energized.  
  
Jaune didn’t really know where the exercise came from. It was a combination of a bunch of different stretches his older sisters did sometimes. They called it “yoga”, something learned from others in their schools and academies.  
  
But they did it weird, Jaune figured.  
  
This way was more efficient. It felt like a conversation, a greeting.  
  
 _Salutations to the Sun_ , he decided to call the series.  
  
Strangely, the exercise made him feel good afterwards. That probably explained why Shani was always so active and running about. It hadn’t made sense at first, because the other girls hated feeling all icky, and Jaune could commiserate. But this felt like good icky. Like he’d just won at a game or something (which was a rare event for Jaune).  
  
Jaune sighed as he finished, and rotated his arm, taking out the stuffing he’d used when the church bells rang. Father Gambe had given his permission to let Jaune be up in the bell-tower, but only after he’d rung the bells, and so long as he didn’t do anything foolish.  
  
“The church is a sacred space,” the Father had said. “And not a playground.”  
  
Jaune didn’t want to play around though. He had just wanted to be someplace high up, and though the stairs were long and tall, it was almost calming being able to gaze upon the sun as it shone over the rooftops of his town, chasing shimmering lights across the river along the town’s edge, the cries of the people going about their business, and the birds which sometimes visited by the time he was done, after having been driven off by the din of the church bell.  
  
And once he was done, he clasped his hands and muttered an apology to the Oumist God for utilizing their church, even though he wasn’t a believer himself.  
  
It was part of the deal he’d worked out with Father Gambe - he wasn’t a follower of the Church, but “the House of God is open to all who share its values, even if they don’t share its beliefs”, and Father Gambe just asked him to give a prayer anyways, as thanks for letting him use the tower for this.  
  
Still, as he was finishing up, watching out over the streets with a smile on his face, he certainly didn’t expect Nino to barge through the trap-door and shout at him.  
  
“Jaune! I finally found you!”  
  
“Nino?” Jaune whirled, surprised to see his friend there.  
  
“Father Gambe told me you’ve been up here every day during school lunch. To exercise! You hated exercise! What’s going on?”  
  
Jaune was a little shocked at the disbelief in Nino’s voice. Was his friend angry he’d been avoiding them? Or just unable to believe that Jaune felt like doing this?  
  
To be honest, Jaune wasn’t sure where the desire to do this several times a day came from. Just that his body ached if he didn’t do it in the morning as the sun rose, and that he benefitted greatly from it. That he continued to build it as a habit at noon and sunset was just… well, it felt normal to him.  
  
“Hey, calm down, Nino. It’s nothing really.”  
  
“Nothing? You’ve been disappearing every day at lunch. None of the teachers know where you are. You always show up in the middle of the period again, and then eat.”  
  
“Yeah, because I come up here to stretch and -”  
  
“And what? You never said a thing, we didn’t know where you were. Heavens above, your sister Olivia came by yesterday and you weren’t there. Said you left your lunch at home!”  
  
“Ah, yeah, that…” Jaune rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed as his friend laid into him.  
  
“Dude, what’s gotten into you? You’re acting like you’ve started training to be a Huntsman. You know your older sis Olivia just started at the pell, and she’s, like, eleven.”  
  
“Nothing wrong with an early start…”  
  
“We’re eight, bro!”  
  
“So? What if Grimm break into town, huh? My sisters are strong, my parents are strong… I mean, your dad is a Huntsman too, Nino! Don’t you want to start at the pell too? To be strong?”  
  
“Yeah, but I’d rather play all day! Academies start at thirteen, and we’ll be old then! We’re kids! Boys! Leave the pell to older kids! Our time will come. Or we’ll do other things.”  
  
“Well, I want to start now. Dad’s already started teaching me how to ride, and says I can handle a colt really well.”  
  
Nino tried not to look at Jaune with envy. Jaune’s family was reasonably well off, despite having to support a household of eleven. The Arc’s had a few horses, and Jaune had started learning to ride at the tender age of seven. Most of the other boys wouldn’t get a chance to learn to ride till they started at the pell, if they ever chose that path. Not everyone wanted that life. Most quit in the middle, or didn’t bother at all. But riding a horse was a skill all boys wanted to learn - they were the only ways to get around quickly out here in the country-side.  
  
Well, all boys except for Kim - the idiot still kept trying to race horses, claiming that he’d be faster than the swiftest rider one day.  
  
But Jaune couldn’t help but burn with envy at the thought of his sisters training. Becoming strong. Fierce warriors.  
  
Heroes.  
  
Jaune was having trouble waiting around for the adults to say he was ready.  
  
He wanted to show them he was ready. More than ready.  
  
The other boys played with balls and sticks to enact mock battles. For fun.  
  
But Jaune wanted to know the art of swords.  
  
Yet, he knew no one would teach him.  
  
It was ironic really, given in centuries past, boys would start the pell from the age of seven. But after the wars, people felt relaxed. Things changed and people didn’t need to fight all the time. And now, at the age of eight, Jaune was considered too young to start the pell. He didn’t understand why, just that his “youth” was “precious”, and the rigors of the pell could affect his health later on, if done improperly.  
  
They were right, of course. But Jaune figured he would be able to do both.  
  
He was selfish that way.  
  
“Okay, Jaune. Have it your way. But don’t be mad if the adults say no! Just promise you’ll actually be around with us during lunch, do your exercise thing at school and stuff… it’s weird, you running off everyday.”  
  
Jaune frowned. “It’s not weird.”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Is not.”  
  
“Is too.”  
  
“Is not.”  
  
“Is too. Now promise, or I’ll tell your sisters what you’ve been up to. And tell Chloe you were the one who left that gum on the bench that one day,” Nino threatened.  
  
Jaune gasped. “Kuh! You wouldn’t.” Nino just gave him an evil grin. That day had been a disaster, Chloe had been so furious… It was a witch-hunt, and it was only by the grace of fibbing that Jaune had gotten away. “You would…” Jaune slumped, defeated.  
  
“Fine, I promise.”  
  
Nino held up one hand, pinky-outstretched. Jaune reached out with his own pinky, curling the two together before they shook their hands.  
  
“Come on, mec. Let’s just get back to l’École. Lunch will be over soon, and you haven’t eaten,” Nino nodded to the trap door.  
  
Jaune hesitated, looking to the sky once more. The sun was bright. It was a good day.  
  
“Yeah, I’m coming.”  
  


\-------------------------Par for the Cours Élémentaire-------------------------

  
Unbeknownst to the two boys, not all was well on the streets of Orleans that day. In fact, a great deal of commotion was being stirred up over a bull that Farmer Bowen had brought into town. Said bull was currently running amok.  
  
The reasons for why the bull - named Shine-Eye for that particular glint of intelligence in the mighty bull’s eyes - was running amok were not important. Suffice to say Farmer Claire hadn’t been very smart bringing that temperamental young steer into town to be branded after his own brand had rusted in the spring rains.  
  
The point was that the smith and his apprentice as well as the Farmer and his daughter hadn’t been enough to keep the bull calm as the brand was being, well, branded. Couple that with the steer kicking through a wooden wall and getting large splinters stuck into its flank, and the bull was really mad.  
  
And thus running about and causing a whole commotion on account of… well, angry bull running amok.  
  
Now, if one were a gambling sort, one would think that the odds of said bull running into two eight-year-olds on their way back to school after one extorted a promise out of the other by means of black-mail would be extremely low. So low that such an event would be frankly astronomically improbable.  
  
If so, then one would be very wrong.  
  
For that bull was inadvertently on a collision course with the young sons of two Huntsmen.  
  


\-------------------------Par for the Cours Élémentaire-------------------------

  
“Say, why the church anyways?”  
  
“Tallest building close to school. Also, no one would have looked there.”  
  
“I did.”  
  
“You cheated. You asked Father Gambe, and he ratted me out,” Jaune pouted.  
  
Nino laughed.  
  
“Still, mec, we’ve got Monsieur Douchard when we get back. Really not looking forward to that.”  
  
“Yeah, I hate maths too. But I think I’m getting the hang of it, you know?”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yeah… I think.”  
  
“What’s your secret, bro?”  
  
Jaune shrugged. Nino sighed sadly.  
  
 _Miaou!_  
  
The two boys looked up at the small tree above them. There was a cat on all fours, peering uneasily over the branch down at the two. Nino took off his cap and rubbed his eyes.  
  
“Is that a…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“In a tree.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Stuck?”  
  
“Seems like it.”  
  
“Think it needs help?”  
  
“Looks like. Here, I’ll help you up and get it down.”  
  
Jaune clasped his fingers and crouched as Nino stepped into Jaune’s hands. With a huff of effort, Jaune boosted Nino high enough to grab onto the lower boughs of the tree. The dark haired boy swung his legs towards the trunk and managed to find some purchase on the bark. With a little wriggling, he was up on the tree branch, calling for the cat.  
  
Luckily for Nino, his hands still smelled of lunch, and the feline was in his hands quick as panther.  
  
“Got it?” Jaune called from below.  
  
“Yeah, I got her. Pretty little thing, I’ll shimmy down a bit, just hold on.”  
  
“Okay!”  
  
Nino began moving back to the trunk of the tree to climb down but paused as he noticed some strange noises down the street. Perking his ears, he squinted into the distance, wondering what was up before those eyes widened in surprise.  
  
“Jaune! Run!”  
  
“What?”  
  
“There’s a bull charging this way, and he looks really mad!”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Jaune looked where Nino was pointing and his eyes widened in shock too. There was indeed a massive bull, taller at the shoulder than Jaune was on his tippy-toes, and then some. It’s horns weren’t very sharp looking, but even blunt they would nasty weapons.  
  
This was not a good day to be wearing a red shirt.  
  
Oh, look, there it is, charging this way!  
  
 _“Aaaaaaaaaaaah!”_  
  
Jaune screamed as the bull charged after him, locking onto the red shirt and giving chase to the little boy running from it in it’s blind rage.  
  
“Jaune, if you’re scarier than the bull, it’ll be afraid of you! Make a lot of noise and scare it!”  
  
“That’s bears, Nino!”  
  
Then it stepped on a rock and hurt its foot.  
  
 ** _*SNORT* *MOOOOOOOOOOO!!!*_**  
  
The bull decided that the boy in red in front of him was likely responsible for that. The fact that bulls don’t actually hate the color red was ignored - it was mad, and the road was narrow. Jaune was running away and the bull was incensed enough to give chase.  
  
“I’m too young to be killed by a cow!!!”  
  


\-------------------------Par for the Cours Élémentaire-------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And here's the third chapter for LoaNA. Couldn't really fit charm-use into this one on account of it not panning out with how the story flowed, and where I decided to cut it off (on account of already going roughly 4k words this chapter, and me not having more time to right all at once, as I am wont to do). So this isn't very exciting, or really very funny, but should set up some stuff for chapter 4's exciting "Jaune v Shine-Eye" match, and introduces "Huntsman's Son, Nino!" who is also a reference. But yeah, next chapter, charm-use.
> 
> Same contest on figuring out the majority of the references I make for these chapters, though the ones in this chapter are a little on the nose. 


	4. Shine-Eye Down

Bianca’s spear whirled in her hands. Bullets bounced off the spear’s haft and deflected by the blade at harmless angles, ensuring Bianca was relatively safe from the hailstorm of speeding projectiles piercing the air. The few that managed to touch her only skimmed the edge of her breastplate, shaving off slivers of aura.  
  
Seeing his opponent barely affected by the assault, the other student let out a rough breath of annoyance. The brown-haired boy had been trying to gain some ground with covering fire mixed with actual attacks, but he couldn’t seem to get too far. Unfortunately, his gun-sword didn’t have a high enough rate of fire to prevent her from maintaining the distance he’d been trying to expand.  
  
Then again, he hadn’t expected anything less from Bianca de Gennes, niece to the renowned warrior, Oliver de Gennes. Her spear-technique was superb. Especially because he’d already made the mistake of not retreating the instant the spar began.  
  
The spear flashed on the offensive, blade slicing through the air in the very space Bianca’s opponent had dodged into. The edge of her lips twitched as her opponent fell upon the edge, shearing off a fraction of the aura.  
  
“Oh, fudge biscuits…” her opponent swore, caught by the blade in mid-dodge. The brown-haired boy attempted to dart forward and escape for a swipe in retaliation, the blade’s falchion-like edge screeching against the pole’s metal as it swept down the length. However Bianca was still too quick. Her steps were light on the retreat as the blade flashed - trapping her opponent in the iron web of her spear patterns.  
  
The only refuges from her flashing spear that the boy could find were exactly where Bianca dictated them to be. Still, he allowed himself to be harried, blade flashing to meet Bianca’s spear with careful and precise deflections as he attempted to feint and make room to unleash an elemental aura. But Bianca couldn’t allow him that luxury. Then with a brief flurry, the flat of the spear-blade clashed against the flat of the gunblade, her opponent’s stance firm as Bianca poured on the pressure.  
  
Her opponent barely saw the motion as Bianca’s right hand twitched in a circle, spear-edge circling the gun-blade, tip dipping under the curve of the blade edge, catching tight, and wrenching the weapon out of her opponent’s hand. The boy reacted immediately, leaping to roll after it. He knew he was almost useless without a weapon in hand, especially against that spear.  
  
But Bianca had seemed almost prescient, seizing the opportunity with a side-step as the spear slashed downwards, cutting away at the boy’s aura before sweeping flurries carved another score of slashes and stabs into his aura, the vulnerabilities in the boy’s leather gear falling to her precision points just as the boy recovered his fallen weapon.  
  
His aura suffered the direct assault, and the boy could feel the bruises form as a result of the spear’s edge and point. The boy whirled, a shout on his lip as he was about to fire near-point-blank at the vulnerable point of BIanca’s armor under the armpit. Bianca’s spear lanced forward, aiming to strike the boy’s head.  
  
*BZZZZTT!*  
  
“And that’s the match!”  
  
The spear paused a quarter meter from the boy’s face, his finger almost depressing the trigger as they froze in place with the sound of the buzzer. As one, the two turned towards the display by the grey haired professor.  
  
The display was quite clear - Bianca de Gennes hovered at roughly 64 % aura. The boy, Bobby Squall, had dropped to 14 % - just barely in the red.  
  
“As is clear, the winner of this bout is Miss de Gennes,” explained the professor who walked forward before coughing into his fist. He continued to speak once the fit ceased.  
  
“Mr. Squall, while you did a commendable job putting up a fight, you should always be aware of your weapon’s reach. As Miss de Gennes has demonstrated, firearms do not have as much benefit from within an enemy's’ reach as they do from outside it. Had you immediately closed the distance to immediately use your blade or escaped Miss de Gennes’ reach from the start, things might have played out differently. I suggest spending time practicing means of escaping your opponent’s reach without them catching up. Nevertheless, good work on reacting to Miss de Gennes’ disarm, but brush up on your unarmed - you were a little panicked there at the end.”  
  
Bobby Squall merely nodded his head, rubbing the side where the spear had nearly punctured the chest-plate, as Bianca thumbed the mechanism to shorten her spear’s haft for easy carrying.  
  
“Yes Professor Shion.”  
  
“And Miss de Gennes…”  
  
Bianca perked up at her name. “Yes Professor?”  
  
“Excellent spear technique as always. But you still have trouble with firearms, I see. Most of your aura loss was due to carelessness in your defense against that. While I am aware your spear-style does not practice the greatest fire-arms defense, I highly suggest investing your time in adding such defense to your techniques. It wouldn’t do for a promising young huntresses as yourself to fall to sustained fire.”  
  
“Of course professor.” Bianca nodded her head to the old, bearded Combat professor, who cleared his throat loudly to cover another cough.  
  
“Good. Now clear the arena and get back to your teams. Our next bout will be between Mr. Lu and Mr. Obomvu.”  
  
The two bowed to the Combat professor before moving swiftly towards the stairs off the arena.  
  
Bobby waved Bianca up before him, gentleman-like, but the young woman barely noticed the boy’s gesture as she walked up the stairs. She was too busy wondering about what she planned to write for the assigned HIstory essay. Essays were not her forte, and History was a notoriously difficult subject at Beacon.  
  
Luckily, the topic was about military stratagems employed during the early years of the Great War - a subject her father had touched briefly upon in his musings at home in Orleans.  
  
Bianca smiled at the memory of her siblings learning about formations at home from their father. Those drawings never measured up against the more professional diagrams illustrated in textbooks and reference guides regarding military formations, but there was a traditional charm to her father’s drawings.  
  
Which also reminded Bianca of her dear brother. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. Jaune really was too cute for this world.  
  
She wondered what he was getting up to about now. Contemplating that, she noted it would be around lunch-time for young Jaune, so he was likely eating out by school rose garden like Olivia said he did.  
  
Ah, how she missed being home, now that she was back at Beacon.  
  
She hoped he was having a nice lunch, at the very least.  
  


\-------------------------Shine-Eye Down-------------------------

  
Jaune raced through the narrow roads of Orleans. Shine-Eye, the rampaging aurochs, wasn’t far behind.  
  
“Why  _me?!_ ” cried the boy, legs racing as the bull kept pace with the youngster easily.  
  
The bull didn’t seem to have an answer, it’s strides matching three to four of Jaune’s, snorting furiously. The mighty bovine stood over a meter and a half at the shoulder, tail whipping, muscle rippling. It was implacable, and Jaune didn’t know how to escape it.  
  
He’d attempted to dart into an alleyway, bursting past a pair of alley cats that quickly scattered and fled for higher ground. But the bull had just followed him, the shattered two-by-four impaled in it’s side scratching against the edges of the alley. The friction of rubbing the bar with the wall shot pain through Shine-Eye’s side. With a wild snort, the auroch’s fury rose, charging after the boy it blamed for all it’s troubles.  
  
The pain didn’t seem to be slowing it down. In fact, the bloody wound seemed to almost glow the same red as it’s maddened eyes, hoofs angrily scuffing up clods of dirt, tearing up earth and stone in it’s frenzied charge.  
  
Jaune noticed his alley way beginning to run out and attempted to jump the wooden wall dividing it. Only, the wall was too tall, almost twice as high as he was on the tips of his toes. And that wall wouldn’t stop the bull for even a moment - it was too thin and made of old timber, while the aurochs was so strong and fast! Running from it… it was impossible!  
  
Only it wasn’t.  
  
But that would be crazy.  
  
No, it’s not.  
  
But…  
  
 _Don’t think._  
  
 ** _Do._**  
  
Time slowed for Jaune. His heart was racing. Adrenaline surged through his body, blood pumping like a thousand-horsepower engine screaming down a highway. His breath was quick, and slowed as his perceptions slowed. The sounds of the angry bull fell away, his shouts died in his throat, as all he could hear was his breath.  
  
In and out.  
  
In and out.  
  
His path was clear.  
  
Jaune leaped to the left, right foot exploding from the ground. A fault in the brick walls of the building’s foundation leaving one a centimeter off from the rest. His foot found itself upon the miniscule edge of that brick. The muscles in his leg cried havoc, flexing as they tensed, tendons straining like the pull of a bowstring.  
  
Then, loose! He was up in the air, shooting forward and towards the other alley wall. His right foot swung forward as his arms swung, ready to shift his weight. The sole of his foot impacted the wall and Jaune threw his head forward, rocking on his right foot as he shot forward and up once more.  
  
His arms whirled as his waist twisted, pulling off a ballet-esque twirl in mid-air as the bull smashed through the wooden division. Horns emerged from the explosion of wood as the bull leaped through the opening. The fragments scattered in the air to every direction in the path of the mighty auroch.  
  
But Jaune was above it now.  
  
Jaune panicked as he found the ground far beneath him, above even the explosion of wood from the breaking wooden wall. He was too high up! He was almost as high as the top floors of some houses. And he seemed to be gaining altitude too…  
  
Oh wait, there was gravity again.  
  
“AAAAAAAAHH!!!” Jaune shouted as he fell....  
  
Right on Shine-Eye the bull.  
  
The bull shuddered from the sudden jolt, almost losing stride, hoofs scrabbling on the ground to stay up. After a momentary pause to keep it’s balance, Shine-Eye shook its head to clear the remnants of the wooden wall as it continued to rush forward. But Shine-Eye could not fail to notice it had a weight on his back - a burden as it searched for the humanoid clothed in a red garment Shine-Eye blamed for its predicament.  
  
“MOOOOOOO!!!”  
  
Jaune’s legs tensed, almost instinctively at the feel of the animal between his legs, heels digging into the bull’s flanks to hold Jaune steady as the boy screamed.  
  
The aurochs bucked, and Jaune flailed, but his short riding lessons had held some fruit - by some miracle, he was still on the bull. Snorting, Shine-Eyes’s tail whipped as it continued to jump around, head whipping to try and see what was on it’s back. But its burden wouldn’t fly off, no matter how much it bucked!  
  
Jaune just dug his fingers in the hairs of Shine-Eye’s hide, legs tight and firm as he held on for dear life. If he was thrown off, he would likely crack his skull open and die! How could he be a hero like that?  
  
“You really need to calm down! Or I’ll die!”  
  
The boy’s grip was inescapable, his legs would not let go for a moment, weight shifting to stay on despite the shaking as the bull raced through the streets. Shine-Eye charged forward as the pain continued to dig into its flank, weight still on its shoulders, barreling past an unhitched wagon into an intersection as the people on the sides shouted and screamed at the sight of a boy atop a mad aurochs.  
  
“Mad Cow!”  
  
“Oh my god, is that a kid!?”  
  
“Someone get Animal Control!”  
  
“We don’t have an Animal Control! Get a butcher!”  
  
“Somebody stop the ride, I want to get off!” Jaune shouted as the bull bucked, leaping in a circle to shake him off.  
  
His fingers were slipping, and Jaune knew he needed to get the bull to slow down or getting off would involve being in a hospital for years. So he grabbed the only things he could.  
  
His little hands seized the bull by the horns.  
  
Shine-Eye, understandably, did not like that.  
  
Not one bit.  
  
With renewed vigor, the bull attempted to jerk free, but the boy’s grip was inescapable. It defied comprehension, but Jaune held on for his dear life, and the bull couldn’t help but turn its head where the youngster directed it.  
  
“Oh, no you don’t!” Jaune shouted, angry and fed up with this whole mess. “You  _will_ calm down and let me off!”  
  
*SNORT!* “MOOOOO!!”  
  
Shine-Eye tried bucking more, but the aurochs was running out of steam. For a good ten minutes, the aurochs attempted to break free, but the boy merely bounced on its shoulders, never leaving for more than an instant before heels dug into the flanks and restored a mount. Each time he was bounced, weight shifting almost instinctively to stabilize him on his unwilling mount. Every now and then, Jaune gave the bull a jerk to one side or another in retaliation for the pain each bounce did to his privates as his vulnerables bounced off the aurochs’ spine.  
  
As the time passed, snorts became pants, jumps and leaps became pawed hoofs at the ground. The fight dimmed in the bull’s eyes, exhaustion taking hold.  
  
As it tired, Jaune noted it was slowing down. Not enough to get off without hurting himself, but enough that he could distract it. And then he had an idea.  
  
Whenever he had to calm down, one of his mothers or his older sisters would draw him into a hug, and sing him a soft song. His tantrums would die away, and he’d be calm.  
  
Surely, the same principles that worked on him would apply to a mad bull, no? Besides, Maman said he had a lovely voice, so long as he wasn’t using it to cause trouble.  
  
So he began to hum a song. Something within him stirred, and he breathed. In and out. It felt good. Calm and soothing.  
  
That was good. It was a good song. He’d use that tune.  
  
Then he began to sing in a soft whisper.  
  
In its fatigue, with the boy leaning so close to it’s ears, Shine-Eye couldn’t help but listen.  
  
And with the boy’s song, came peace. The sun shone on the boy and the bull, motes of dust dancing lazily in the air. All was right with the world.  
  
The lyrics weren’t really about any one topic, nor was it an actual song. Just words and thoughts strung together with an ad hoc tune. What was important was the tone, and the emotions conveyed. Of warm days in the sun. Endless fields and leisure. Family at home, full of love. Peace and calm quiet. The world at rest as it should be.  
  
And Shine-Eye listened.  
  
Jaune sang and Shine-Eye felt peace.  
  
As Jaune’s voice drifted away, song at its end, the few on-lookers that hadn’t run at the sight of the mad bull could only stare in mute shock as the bull had laid down in the middle of the song, panting heavily. The boy on its back rubbed its hide softly and soothingly.  
  
When the song died away, Jaune slipped from the bull’s back, feet bouncing lightly as he found the ground with a sigh of relief. Smiling, Jaune continued to rub the bull with calm thoughts, hands making soothing patterns, and glanced at it again with new eyes.  
  
Now that they were both calm, he could see why it had been angry.  
  
Poor beast was injured. Even for a creature as mighty as this, pain was confusing and only served to make it angry. The doleful eyes of the bull bored into the boy, large brown into small blue. Jaune could see the strength in the young aurochs, it’s might and pain. Why it had been driven into blind fury.  
  
But it was peaceful now. Jaune was here, and he was humming softly, keeping Shine-Eye calm.  
  
Minutes later, Farmer Bowen arrived with the smith, panting as they stared at Jaune in Shine-Eye with shock. The cattle owner’s son had arrived as well, and the two farmers approached with caution, a rope leash in the son’s hands as they inched closed.  
  
“Boy… You’d best step away from that bull…” older rancher warned.  
  
Shine-Eye’s ears flicked at their approach, and snorted roughly. It’s tail whipped as it turned from Jaune towards the farmer, about to rise.  
  
“Wait, wait. Shhhhhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay, the pain will go away soon. It’s okay,” Jaune hurriedly sing-songed in a soft-tone to keep the aurochs calm. Shine-Eye snorted uneasily and turned back to Jaune, tail flicking lazily.  
  
Taking their chances, the farmer and his son steeled their nerves and approached, slipping the leash around the bull’s neck, the father coming to the bull’s injured flank. Jaune gave him a concerned glance, but the older man merely sighed.  
  
“It’s deep, but it won’t splinter if we’re careful.” The farmer gave Jaune a curious glance. “You keep your song up, boy. Shine-Eye seems to be calm when you do that.” Jaune nodded.  
  
As the boy sang softly, the farmer administered first aid to the bull. Applying careful pressure, the man pulled out the shard of wood and cast it aside. Shine-Eye reacted but Jaune quickly managed to calm him down. The farmer quickly applied some cloth wraps around the area, and tied it down with the help of his son.  
  
When Shine-Eye was sufficiently docile, the two brought the bull to his feet, and the son led the bull away. They’d get the smith to visit them at the farm - clearly bringing a young aurochs into town had been a horrendously bad idea.  
  
Rubbing his messy hands on a handkerchief, Farmer Bowen turned to Jaune. The ranch-owner looked him up and down, not seeing any injuries whatsoever. Just slumped shoulders as the boy panted, sweat glistening on his skin, golden hair tousled messily from the action. But no injuries, or even the hint of pain. Just fatigue. His brows raised in surprise, impressed.  
  
“You ever wrangled bulls before, boy?”  
  
“No, monsieur.” Jaune answered honestly.  
  
Bowen whistled. “Well, I don’t know how you did it, but you calmed Shine-Eye down. Hard thing to do, calm a bull when it’s seeing red.” He clapped a hand on Jaune’s little shoulder. “You did good, boy. You ever need a job, I won’t turn you away.”  
  
Jaune smiled, a little overwhelmed and still reeling from the experience. “Thank you. I think.”  
  
“What’s your name, boy?”  
  
“Jaune, monsieur. Jaune Arc.”  
  
“Roland’s boy?”  
  
“Yes, monsieur.”  
  
“Well, you remember what I said, then. And don’t go wrangling bulls till you get some actual lessons on ‘em, you hear?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
Farmer Bowen smiled back and headed off after his bull.  
  
When he was away, and the other onlookers had turned away to begin gossiping about all this, Jaune let out a long breath.  
  
“Haaah!... I can’t believe that all worked…”  
  
“Jaune!”  
  
Jaune turned and winced as he saw the short-haired boy in a cap running towards him, eyes wide and red from what had obviously been crying.  
  
“Hey Nino...“  
  
The cap-wearing boy barreled into Jaune, almost knocking the blond boy down as he crushed his friend in a hug. After a sigh of relief to find his friend wasn’t actually a ghost who had been gored by a mad bull, he shouted in the hug, “I thought you were hurt! That you’d…”  
  
It took Nino a moment to remember that hugging a boy who was maybe injured wasn’t a good idea. Stepping back, the boy looked his friend over. “You are okay, right? You’re not hurt, or bruised or -”  
  
“I’m fine, Nino!” Jaune laughed tiredly. “Just… tired, that’s all. Exhausted. I don’t think I’ve run that hard in my life.”  
  
“Thank God, Jaune. Oh, Lord in Heaven, you’re okay...:”  
  
Nino rubbed his eyes to hide the tears as he smiled.  
  
“Yeah, I’m okay. Still can’t believe it, but I’m okay.”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Hungry though.”  
  
Nino barked with laughter, smiling despite his red eyes. “Yeah, we’re missing lunch, aren’t we.”  
  
“And today we have dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets…”  
  
“God, dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. Can’t miss those.”  
  
“Of course, Nino! Let’s get back to school!”  
  
“Yeah. Then I can ask you all sorts of questions about  _how you got chased by a bull, oh my god!_ ”  
  
“Nino, calm down! I’m okay!”  
  
“But a  _bull_! And you’re not dead!”  
  
“I got lucky?”  
  
“Really lucky! A whole year’s worth!”  
  
The two laughed as they walked off to school, avoiding the long roads in fear that an adult would wonder why they were so close to where a bull had been rampaging. The cat in the tree and Jaune’s disappearances at lunch had been all but forgotten.  
  


\-------------------------Shine-Eye Down-------------------------

  
Word had traveled fast. By the time Jaune had gotten back home from school, almost all of Orleans had learned of the blond boy that rode a mad bull and sung it down from the depths of rage.  
  
Azure, Indigo, and Oliivia hadn’t left his side. His mother had shouted his ears off before crushing him with tearful hugs. He’d just rubbed her back as she let it all out, and was glad his other mother and sisters hadn’t heard yet. He was sure that they would call the instant they heard, just to check if he was okay.  
  
But his three youngest sisters were still here, and while Mom was content to continue checking him for injuries or bruises or sprains or whether he’d developed his father’s “stupid heroic bravery impulse” or not, they continued to wait at the sides and mother him when Mom was distracted.  
  
It was awfully smothering, but Jaune took it all in stride. They loved him, and their hearts were in the right place. But Jaune was okay, and promised Indigo as she asked him quietly and nervously that he most certainly wouldn’t be rushing off the wrangle bulls on his own any time soon.  
  
He didn’t bother telling them that Farmer Bowen had given him permission to find work at his farm. They’d just worry.  
  
But his father had only been silent throughout it all. He hadn’t said a word, just stood in the background, arms folded, staring. It was a rather unnerving stare.  
  
Jaune had only glanced at his father’s eyes, and found something clouded and dark storming within those orbs. Emotions broiling within those unfathomable depths, unknowable thoughts passing through his father’s mind.  
  
But there was something Jaune did recognize…  
  
Roland Arc was terrified.  
  
Horrified and afraid.  
  
And the intensity of his father’s eyes was too much for the boy, who averted his gaze. His dad was upset and had every right to be. How could Jaune not be ashamed for worrying him? For worrying his mother and sisters. For the shock he must have caused them, the fear they must have felt hearing he’d been near an angry bull. Their worry…  
  
But it wasn’t his fault.  
  
Jaune knew that it wasn’t his fault the bull had gone wild. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It charged. He ran.  
  
Jaune hadn’t done anything wrong.  
  
And if he had to do it again, sure he’d do things differently.  
  
But he couldn’t apologize for doing more than worrying them. Even if he hadn’t meant to.  
  
And as the night passed, dinner was had, and Roland Arc continued to be silent. Jaune’s mother, Aude, continued to alternate between doting upon Jaune and sending her husband concerned looks.  
  
But Roland just washed the dishes as his daughters finished their homeworks at the table with Jaune, not leaving him out of their sight till the sun had descended beyond the horizon and the skies grew dark. He said nothing till they were all cleaned up and ready for bed.  
  


\-------------------------Shine-Eye Down-------------------------

  
“Jaune.”  
  
That was all he said as he stood in Jaune’s room, looking down at his little boy in a onesie. Jaune, in turn, looked up at his father.  
  
Then Roland lowered himself to one knee, and drew Jaune into a firm embrace.  
  
“Oh, my dear boy… I-I don’t know what I would have done if you…” he choked.  
  
“Dad, I -”  
  
“No. No, it’s my job to look after you. And you must have been so scared.”  
  
“I was, Dad. But I’m fine. I’m okay.”  
  
“Yes.” The huntsman’s arms tightened around his son. “Yes, you are. This time, you are. My brave, little Jaune.”  
  
“Dad?”  
  
“I thought I could just - that I could...somehow, someway find a means to keep you from… from that truth.”  
  
“Dad, what’s wrong?” Jaune was worried, unable to see his dad’s face. His father’s eyes had been strange, but now Jaune just saw his father’s wide back, and the powerful shoulder under his chin. Jaune’s arms weren’t big enough to fully circle his father’s wide chest, but that was okay. All he could feel was his dad rubbing soothing circles into Jaune’s back.  
  
“Oh, Jaune. You’re not like your sisters. And I had hoped you would never… It’s almost a curse, isn’t it? Trouble is in our blood. Your blood.”  
  
“Papa…”  
  
Roland drew away from the hug, looking his son deep in the eyes. Jaune searched his father’s face for some hint to understand what was going on, but all he could see was unreadable. Like his father was terrified of something, yet helpless to do anything. It was a strange expression, especially on one as strong as his father.  
  
He had thought there was nothing that could scare his father - that his sword was invincible.  
  
Roland of Braye, a hero.  
  
His father was unbeatable: his sword - indestructible.  
  
A hurricane on a leash.  
  
He who could fight ten huntsmen to a standstill.  
  
And here was his father. Terrified.  
  
Roland Arc stood and took a step back. After a few long breaths to center himself, he motioned for Jaune to get in bed. The father’s face was stern and hard again. His eyes were fierce and - despite the clouds lurking within - bright as they usually were.  
  
Jaune obliged, still concerned. Roland just flicked the lights off and wished him good night before heading to the door.  
  
He’d turned the handle and was about to close it behind himself before the father said something that kept Jaune up for hours.  
  
“Wednesday is auspicious for the beginning of journeys. After school on Wednesday, you shall immediately finish your homework. Once that is done... you shall start at the pell. Good night Jaune.”  
  
The door closed, and Jaune’s eyes were wide.  
  
There was no way he could sleep after hearing that.  
  


\-------------------------Shine-Eye Down-------------------------

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll notice that I don’t really follow the Exalted rules as they’re written. This isn’t really a mistake - it’s the fact I don’t own all the Exalted splat-books, and am just saying “screw all that noise, I’m homebrewing stuff, so whatever!” This simplifies stuff for me by having the ‘mechanics’ I’m adhering to be loose enough for me to do whatever I need, and still feel like an epic game of RWBY/Exalted.


	5. This Is Not A Pell

“How… how could it have come to this…”

  
Nino groaned as he tried to stand. He had fallen onto one knee, an eye screwed shut from the pain as blood dripped from his stomach and limbs. He had to hold it tight lest the vital essence of his life leak from the deep gash in his abdomen. HIs armor was in tatters, helmet cast to some far corner where it had flown in the melee, smashed beyond recognition. Blood seeped from a cut on his head, and his body was bruised and broken. His ears rang and the world was faded at the edges of vision, as he knew this was his last stand. Yet he was still resolute, hand clutching his lance with an iron grip as it was the only thing keeping him upright.  
  
“Face it,  _hero_. Your defiance is at an end,” snarled the cloaked figure, his dread blade dripping with the blood of the innocent and the essence of brave warriors who had attempted to deny the conqueror. The blade swept forward, and Nino could only glare in horror at the remains that still stained the steel.  
  
Sir Ivanko the Strong.  
  
Maximilien the Wise.  
  
Brave Kimball.  
  
Alixandra the Thief and Nath the Bard!  
  
All had fallen to the villain’s blade.  
  
“Now, submit to my rule.”  
  
“Your tyranny, you monster!” Nino spat blood in defiance. The dark lord merely chuckled.  
  
“Monster… I have been called worse.”  
  
“I can’t believe you were a traitor! We trusted you! We were brothers in arms!”  
  
The dark gauntlet tightened on the blade, which quivered.  
  
“Brothers… Laughable. Where were you, Nino, when the Grimm came? Why shouldn’t I let the demon in? The strength to command the dead who fell that night?” the armored villain roared. Nino merely glared his hatred at the pits of darkness where the figure’s eyes should be behind that nightmarish helm.  
  
“It was your madness that brought them, Anathema! You let the demons into our gates! You betrayed us, not we!”  
  
“Silence, fool! Spare your words for your God. And when I have conquered the world with my monstrous brethren and dread legion, let God know Heaven is next.”  
  
The armored figure swept back his sword, hand readied for the beheading stroke.  
  
“I’ll see you in Hell first, Jaune!” Nino roared as he leaped from the ground, lance spearing towards the swordsman who was caught off guard by the ludicrous assault.  
  
The dark lord was wracked with panic, snarling “I told you, the name’s Vociferous M-ACK!”  
  
Not only was there a lance stabbed in his belly, protruding out his back spilling the black blood of the damned onto the stone floor, a dying hero bleeding out at his feet, and a room of burning carnage all around him… but also a knife in his back, right between vertebrae of the spine. A mortal blow.  
  
Jaune the Anathema whirled, through sheer force of will, staring in shock at the red-head shyly standing there with a hesitant smile on her face. Jaune’s face fell in shock.  
  
“S-Sabrina? But you were - “  
  
“Actually a Rogue. Sorry… Chloe, sorry,  _Princess Clarissa_  said you’d never expect it.”  
  
“Well, darn… You realize I can probably survive this, right? I’m a Deathknight.”  
  
“Yeah, but Chloe was actually playing a Sorcerer the whole time, and has a spell coming to end you, Jaune. And I, um, slipped chains on you to keep you in place while you were talking to Nino. So I can get out of the way.”  
  
Jaune looked down at his feet. Sure enough, there were chains on his feet.  
  
“Wow. Did  _not_  see this coming.”  
  
“Well, it is kind of silly, isn’t it?”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Well, you and Nino got really into it and being dramatic, and it was silly, Jaune. And you were monologuing.”  
  
“Mono-what?”  
  
“Giving a villain speech.”  
  
“Right. That was stupid of me. Gosh, I left myself wide open, and forgot to check for other foes, didn’t I?”  
  
Sabrina shyly nodded, quietly stepping away as Jaune turned to the sky shining through the ruined rooftops as the fires began to claim the building. He could maybe use his Anathema-wickedness-fueled-power to break the chains and escape, but if Chloe had picked Sorcerer, she was probably going to have enough pretend-money to devastate the entire block too with her Dust reserves. Gosh darn rich people.  
  
No win scenario, it looked like.  
  
“So it ends like this.”  
  
Jaune sighed, already feeling the holy magic of the Dust Sorcery building around him as he realized the heroes had just been pawns. Sacrificed for the Sorcerer to make the perfect play. Typical.  
  
“Man, I wish I never made that bet. Now I’m gonna have to kiss Chloe tomorrow,” Jaune whined in his dark armor, dread sword falling from his grasp as the roof finally collapsed over him and the world exploded with light.  
  


\-------------------------This Is Not A Pell-------------------------

  
Jaune was bummed as they walked back to school for afternoon classes. Mademoiselle San-Claire was going to give them such an earful for playing “Heroes and Demons” and messing up their clothes, but they got a stern talking to whenever they played foot-ball on the field or when Jaune would do something silly like use the girls’ restroom when the boy’s stalls were full. Mom had beaten Dad up again when she heard about it though.  
  
Honestly, he didn’t see what the big deal was really - he had to go number two and there was no way he was doing it in a bush. He shared his restroom with his sisters at home, and there was no problem there. He did not understand why it was such a big deal that he had used the girls’ restroom for an emergency.  
  
Well, he  _hadn’t_. Jaune was smarter now, and knew it was wrong. Sure, the complexities of the issue still eluded him somewhat, but he had a firm grasp on the whole “boys are never allowed in the girl’s restroom”.  
  
In retrospect, it was rather obvious.  
  
Still, Jaune was more bummed that he had been picked to play the villainous demon-possessed Anathema, and that he had lost the bet.  
  
Not that he wanted the world to be overrun with monsters and Grimm and corpses from beyond the pale, but he’d figured that the hellish training his father - no, his  _Sifu_  had put him under would give him an edge.  
  
And it had. Until he got tricked.  
  
Jaune would have to watch out for tricks next time. Having to kiss Chloe would be a constant reminder, because she’d never stop bugging him about it later. Nothing really wrong with Chloe, just that she was really mean, and used to order Sabrina to play pranks on him and the she would laugh as his nice clothes got all dirty and call him “baka” and go all red.  
  
Jaune didn’t even know what a “baka” was. It sounded made up. Shani had said it was cute and gave him a big hug to smother him as she laughed. That just made him more confused about the whole thing.  
  
Also, acting the villain just felt wrong somehow. Like that was the exact opposite of what he was on the inside. Jaune understood that - his dream was to be a hero, even if Dad and his Moms were all resistant to the idea. They were just being worry-warts like always. Heroism was in Jaune’s blood.  
  
But once Jaune had accidentally let slip his Dad had let him start Pell Training early in his excitement those months ago, there was no way he was playing the hero’s side in their games - the Villain always loses, sure, but Jaune had to be on the villain team because then he was a true bad-guy with the strength to oppress the innocent and show there was a need for heroes.  
  
Also, no one else would be the Anathema if they had to go up against Hero!Jaune. It was suicide for the villains to go up against someone with actual training, and not moves learned from CCT TV programmes.  
  
Democracy. What can you do?  
  
Pouting as Nino slapped him on the back commenting about his strength, Jaune muttered darkly, “Yeah, yeah, I was a tough fight, but I still lost. Stupid bet. I should never gamble. Luck hates me or something.”  
  
Kim laughed at that. “Dude, you were really tough though! Not Huntsman like, but you were like a rock, but fast as a cat! Like a puma, or something. Man, now  _I_  wish I was allowed to do Pell Training!”  
  
Ivan grunted his assent. The tall boy wasn’t much for eloquent words. Not vocally, anyway. Surprisingly quiet for a boy who was as tall as some teenagers, and would likely grow to be built like a bear.  
  
Nathaniel had already disappeared, being eliminated early in the game on account of having absolutely no intention of putting up a resistance to Jaune’s heavy-handed opening plays. Alix had been sacrificed holding Jaune at bay long enough for Chloe to get out of dodge. That was something Jaune had been most grateful about, as Alix would play while wearing skates, and there was no defense to such a small girl barreling into you on skates when you were distracted by your guy-friends. Suffice to say Alix had stormed off, furious with Chloe.  
  
Nevertheless, Jaune didn’t share Kim’s enthusiasm. “You say that now… Man, it’s so hard though! I mean, after school, I have to finish all my homework and chores. If I don’t finish fast enough, I might miss dinner in order to finish the day’s training. And it’s a lot of running and carrying heavy stuff, and dragging a tire uphill by myself, and dodging the rocks Dad, no,  _Sifu_ throws, and hitting a pell with the waster… I’m hitting a big stick with a smaller stick! And when I’m done and Dad tells me to go back inside and shower, I don’t even remember half of what I was doing the entire time once the water’s dry! I just feel sore all over! I barely get the time to stretch before bed, and then I’m dead all night.”  
  
Nino just gave his friend a wary look while Ivan patted him, gently for a giant, on the back.  
  
“What about weapon training? You were really fast with that stick. Better than all of us,” Nino wondered.  
  
“That’s probably the only fun part, and I don’t even get  _that_  alot. Every other day or so, really. Apparently strength training is bad until you’re a teenager, so Sifu goes easy and has me do really basic stances and forms. And it’s not just swords and unarmed training, but staves, spears, sabers, archery, flails, hidden weapons, heavy bludgeons, axes, shields, daggers, chains… it goes on. Whatever he feels like, really, but mostly blades of some sort, or poles. Shields too. Dad’s better at those.”  
  
“Merde,” Kim swore, eliciting the surprise of the boys for actually using the curse. “That sounds crazy! Why so many weapons?”  
  
“Because he can’t find one I’m good at.” Jaune answered before frowning. “Well, I think that’s what it is, really. Dad, er, Sifu just said ‘specialization was for pansies’ and that I had to know all the classic weapons because it was in the manual he had. The Tiger Warrior something. I dunno, it’s written in some dead language, and Mom’s trying to teach me, but I’m Dad was just trying to say I sucked without actually saying it...”  
  
Nino reeled. “How do you even deal with that every day?”  
  
“Honestly?” Jaune rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “School.”  
  
The boys stopped and turned to stare at Jaune like he was crazy too.   
  
“Sorry, come again?”  
  
“Not sure we heard you right, mec.”  
  
“Did we hit you in the head back there?”  
  
“I mean, school isn’t really hard compared to the training Sifu puts me through. And after going through that in the mornings for training, school is super-relaxing, even when we have physical education,” Jaune mused thoughtfully.  
  
Lightbulbs went off in the boys’ heads as they realized this was why Jaune had been so tired in classes every morning for the last several months. But eventually it was Max who had the insatiable curiosity to ask:  
  
“Wait, morning training?”  
  
“Yeah, like stretching, running a kilometer or two to warm up, sometimes having to do Dodge-training while I run as Sifu throws random stuff at me without warning, doing horse stance for an hour or more while holding some weights out in my hands and balancing a bowl of hot water on my head, doing push ups, sit-ups, squats. Endurance training. Stuff like that. Dad always leaves a note for me the night before so I know what to do.  
  
“But I’ve been finishing quicker lately, so I have more free time! And I can still tend to the gardens with Mom and play Gateway with Azure on the weekends and have fun with whatever, because Dad’s always busy on weekends which means training is really light those days.”  
  
There’s a few moments of silence as the boys continue walking. They weren’t sure how to confront Jaune about this madness on account of the blond being happy to do all this. Tired and exhausted, but happy to be training.  
  
“Jaune,” Nino began, unsure of how to say it as his friend clearly had no idea his father was insane. It was rather hard to believe, mostly for the fact that Monsieur Roland was actually one of the coolest adults Nino knew. That such a man was capable of ordering his son to undergo this level of physical hell that would make elite soldiers cry was hard to reconcile with the image Nino had of a man who safeguarded Orleans and played with the boys on the weekends when he was free. “That isn’t Pell Training. That’s  _Hell_ Training.” The other boys nodded emphatically.  
  
Jaune just sighed. “No, it’s just how boys are supposed to train. My sisters didn’t have to do all of that but they’re  _girls_. They got the easy version.”  
  
This was understandable to the boys. It was a common belief amongst the boys that the girls in their year were most certainly delicate flowers who had not the slightest inclination to play rough or get rowdy like boys do.  
  
Alix, naturally, was the exception. But she was better at being a boy than some boys were, and never wore dresses except to Church, so none of the boys really considered her to be a girl anyways. Alix never seemed to mind - she could kick most of their butts anyways, and would do so whenever one of the boys commented on her short height.  
  
Nevertheless, Kim and Nino paled at the thought of having to undergo that manner of hell when they were old enough for their parents to allow them to start training. Max felt faint-headed at the sheer absurdity of an eight-year-old having to do all of that every day of the week for months.  
  
Story was that Jaune had started the Pell after surviving Shine-Eye, Farmer Bowen’s aurochs. That had been over three months ago, and after hearing that tale of “manliness”, the boys his age had decided to ‘rescue him from the girls’ he spent so much time with. So, now Jaune was finally friends with boys his age other than Nino.  
  
Truthfully, Jaune was strained for time by that: he was still friendly with the girls, and the boys had taken it upon themselves to teach him true rowdiness, but his undertaking of the Tiger Warrior’s training methods (as modified to fit a boy who had only reached eight years of age) left him with little time to himself.  
  
It was part of the reason why he strived to excel in his studies and training - the faster and more skillful he got with schoolwork and training, the more time he’d have free when he was done. It meant he could still be a child  
  
Besides, there was no way he was missing Rose’s tea-party. Chloe wasn’t friends with Rose so she wouldn’t be there, and Rose had excellent taste in cakes and biscuits, so it was sure to be an excellent party with the girls in his year.  
  
Jaune was resolved to get stronger and finish the training faster so he wouldn’t be late on Saturday.  
  


\-------------------------This Is Not A Pell-------------------------

  
High, low, duck, turn, parry high, sweep left, whirl right, chop down, on and on it went. Jaune had the long staff in hand, the wasters left at the side of the training grounds as his father tested Jaune’s understanding of defense. His sisters stretched and practiced with wasters nearby, sparing Jaune and their father worried glances every now and then between touches.  
  
There was no technique to the training. It wasn’t a style, nor any standard form of training with staves. Instead, the idea of this exercise was very simple for Jaune to understand.  
  
 _Try and hit Sifu. Don’t get hit by Sifu._  
  
To be honest, most of the time, it was just Jaune getting poked and hit by the practice weapons they trained with. But he was determined to try.  
  
“Focus!” There was a rush of air as his father’s staff swept to his thigh. Jaune hadn’t recovered that zone of defense quick enough, and paid for it with the solid thwack of wood against his leg.  
  
Wincing, the boy hopped back. Jaune blinked the pain away, trying to regain his bearings as his father gave him little room to recover. His leg still hurt from where he had been hit, but Jaune still had to defend.  
  
His father was in “Sifu-mode”, and wouldn’t care if Jaune messed up because of something like the pain of being hit.  
  
Pain built character, apparently. What that meant, Jaune didn’t really know.  
  
Roland spun the staff in hand, creating a lazy defense against Jaune’s counterattack, but Jaune had just needed it to gain a little time to ignore the hit to his thigh. The boy immediately reacted with a basic defense against the low sweep coming out of Roland’s spinning strike. Jaune knew his father was going easy on him - there was barely any pressure in the warrior’s blows, but it still felt heavy, despite the dodge back Jaune used to lessen the weight of the strike.  
  
“Defend yourself, boy!”  
  
Shrugging off the blows that Roland rained down upon him from various angles, Jaune reacted mostly on instinct, blocking and deflecting those he was confident he had the strength to do, and dodging the rest. That much was simple, on account of being much shorter than his father - what he lacked in reach, he made up for in being evasive. He couldn’t weather the blows directly, so he tried to figure out angles to hide in and attack from.  
  
Hand over hand he spun the staff to ward off the probes before lunging with a spear-like thrust at the opening those provided, Jaune followed with a slice at his father’s hands. His footwork had to be quick like firm and solid. But a last second jerk from Roland led Jaune’s staff to only meet wood. Jaune grimaced as the staff demonstrated its flexibility with a clever manipulation of Roland’s wrist, forcing Jaune to disengage before maneuvering back into the offense.  
  
But as he swept for his father’s head, Jaune was surprised to find his father hadn’t relied on superior reach to deflect, but instead dropped low, a sweep fast as lightning aimed to destroy Jaune’s stance.  
  
Unable to maneuver quick enough, Jaune immediately tensed and let loose, springing into the air and out of the way. Roland merely grinned as the staff blurred out of Jaune’s sight, blindsiding him as it smacked him in Jaune’s vulnerable side.  
  
Jaune fell to the ground, staff clattering out of his hand from the fall. Groaning, Jaune attempted to roll to grab his staff again, but froze at the pressure of the wooden staff pressing lightly on his solar plexus, holding him down. His head turned to see his father crouching low in a squat, staff in one hand applying the pressure to keep Jaune down with apparently ease.  
  
“Be careful in the air, Jaune. A tree needs roots to stand against a storm,” was the lesson Roland gave his son before the pressure holding Jaune vanished.  
  
Groaning, Jaune got up and dusted himself off. “Thank you D - Sifu,” he said with a short bow before hooking a toe under his staff and flicking it up to a waiting hand.  
  
“Shall we continue?” asked Jaune.  
  
Roland shook his head. “No, enough staves for today. It’s getting late. Practice a hundred strikes on the pell with the waster, and stretch before heading inside.”  
  
Jaune glanced up at the sky, noticing it was still bright out. Good, fifteen weeks or so of training, and he was able to get to dinner before sun-down. He  _was_  improving!  
  
A traitorous part of him noted that it was also likely his father was starting to go easy on him because he couldn’t handle it. Jaune ignored that sliver of doubt as he always did.  
  
“Are you okay, Jaune?”  
  
Jaune turned and smiled at Azure who stood with her slender waster in hand, having finished her rounds with Olivia. Indigo continued to train her hidden weapons as darts kept hitting the target board across the grounds.  
  
“I’m fine. Just a little tired, but that’s normal.”  
  
Olivia picked up Jaune’s waster and tossed it to him. The training weapons was made of wood, the pieces cut from a mighty Hickory tree, and carved in the form of a cruciform sword. The grip was wrapped in soft cloth, perhaps leather, just to make it more comfortable to grip, but always needed to be tightened after the routine application of flax oil to keep the waster from splintering too often.  
  
The training weapon felt comfortable in his hand, though Jaune wondered if he’d be allowed to train with the blunted metal blades when he was older like Shani and Sienna could. Bianca and Violet had already graduated to live blades, and were training at the Academies.  
  
Times like these, Jaune missed his older sisters. The eldest two were first years as Huntresses-in-training, and the twins were at boarding school in Lutetia. They would be home before Calibration for the holidays, and Jaune couldn’t wait to show his sisters how much he’d improved since they left months ago.  
  
“Don’t hurt yourself, Jaune,” came Indigo’s soft-spoken voice behind him. Jaune gave her a gentle grin before laughing to himself. She always worried. They never wanted him to train. They wanted him to goof off and do stupid things. Which he did anyways, but that wouldn’t stop him from becoming strong.  
  
They wanted to protect him. Jaune wanted to protect them.  
  
“Never fear, sisters dear,” Jaune joked as his sisters pouted at the rhyme. “I won’t let myself get hurt. Otherwise, how will I bear your tears?”  
  
Olivia cuffed him for the cheek, but they were all smiling.  
  
“Don’t be too late training, little brother.”  
  
Jaune waved them off before turning to the corner where the Pells were. That massive poles weighted down to stand firm, wrapped in metal bands and leather to provide a fair range of striking practice.  
  
Standing at one of the shorter ones, he swung his waster in lazy arcs, before stretching lightly again.  
  
“One hundred strikes.”  
  
The sound of wood smacking against wood resounded through the air once more as the little boy swung over and over again as the sun neared the horizon, scattering red and violet hues across the skies.  
  


\-------------------------This Is Not A Pell-------------------------

  
“He still hasn’t given up?” Aude de Gennes wondered aloud, looking towards the training grounds from a window in the hall. The chateau was her domain, but even she was familiar with the sounds of the training grounds. Sister and wife to warriors, she was a far cry from a helpless homemaker.  
  
“No,” answered her husband, arms circling his wife. She sighed as she leaned into his broad chest.  
  
“It’s been months now, Row. You said he would lose heart and quit.”  
  
It wasn’t just a statement, Roland noticed as the faint hint of accusation underlied her tone.  
  
“He’s stronger than we thought. Lily was right about that.”  
  
Aude frowned slightly as she felt for the strong arms around her. Pouting, she turned her head to look up at her husband behind her. His eyes were stormy again. It was mesmerizing really, and she’d fallen in love with them long ago. But now, they were clouded with hesitation and doubt.  
  
“How can that be, Row?”  
  
“Lily be right? She’s right about many things. Like making this all work with you two. With eight beautiful children.”  
  
Aude huffed in annoyance, slapping his arm, much to Roland’s amusement. “You’re incorrigible.”  
  
“Always.”  
  
Aude rolled her eyes as Roland pressed a kiss to her neck, their attention drawn once more to the sounds of the Pell.  
  
“You never taught him Inner Strength. How is he doing this? The Tiger Warrior’s Training… how has he not injured himself?”  
  
“The curse, perhaps?”  
  
“His meridians are healing, Row. That shouldn’t happen to him without at least half a sexagenary of cultivation, or energy transferral. And you didn’t do it. I didn’t. Kareena couldn’t, Oliver wouldn’t. Our parents know better. No one else knows. He hasn’t been in the Forest of Carnutes…”  
  
“I don’t know, Alda-dear. I just… I don’t know what to do.”  
  
“Couldn’t we just deny him? Stop teaching him?”  
  
Roland shook his head while buried in his wife’s dark blue-black hair. “I started teaching him so he’d survive. Because if he doesn’t go looking for trouble, it’ll come to him. It’s our lot.”  
  
“But you could - “  
  
“I can’t stop him from trying to become strong. I can deny him the family Arts, stunt his growth. Make it that much harder for him to discover the truth and drive him to either seek the help of strangers to us, or wallow in mediocrity. Or I could intentionally damage his potential, at the expense of causing my precious little boy harm. Or we could nurture his potential, limit his access to the Arts, and guide him to the path of an honorable and heroic Xia, in hopes that he’ll overcome all obstacles in his path.”  
  
“A xia… That’s his dream, no?”  
  
“The dream of our forefathers. Our sworn promise and duty.”  
  
“Carried out however you see fit,” Aude mused, a wry grin on her face. Roland grimaced as he looked away before his arms tightened around her.  
  
“Too few these days remember the Code of the Xia. The Huntsmen have overshadowed the need for youxia - the rivers and lakes nearly drained by the meddling of the secular world.”  
  
She sighed as they stood in silence, the sounds of the waster at the Pell dying out. The girls were already starting in the bath, and Jaune would be coming in soon as well.  
  
“We can’t let him go to the Academies. The secular world… they forget the old ways, many times. We aren’t bothered here, nowhere of significant consequence to any but the caretakers of history and those who seek the wisdom of yore. But the Kingdoms have forgotten the old ways. Atlas especially - savagery and injustice in the name of science, progress and prosperity. Jaune… his spirit would never survive that, not whole.”  
  
“Calm, Row. You’re growling.”  
  
Roland nuzzled his wife. “Maybe I’m hungry.”  
  
“Then dinner is ready downstairs,” his wife giggled and slipped from his arms. Roland let his hand chase after her, but gave up as she moved out of reach.  
  
“But perhaps later?”  
  
Roland smirked, a primal growl escaping his throat. Aude was being coy again, all fluttering eyelashes and smirks behind an elegant sleeve, sashes trailing like a heavenly maiden, beautiful as a goddess, a decorated fan in hand like she was ready to open a man’s throat from ear to ear with it’s edge. Very much the phoenix bride he had met all those years ago.  
  
Gods above, he loved this woman.  
  


\-------------------------This Is Not A Pell-------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not really much to say at the moment. This chapter explains some things and notes that Jaune is freakishly talented - which is a given not only in Exalted, but also in RWBY canon.
> 
> Also note that this author greatly appreciates reader response as a means of gauging what my audience is either thinking or expecting. So, please keep commenting because this author really does enjoy active discussion (so long as it's on topic).


	6. Prince Not Princess

Jaune ducked under the branches as he bolted from the wolves. He was barefoot, and had been told to make it to the top of Shatterpeak where the shrine was by navigating the Lost Woods with just his breeches, a tunic tied with a short length of rope, and a simple torc around his neck. No weapons, no supplies. Just the memory of how to get to the shrine as his father had taken him on horseback as a child, and detailed for him in the instructions which were then burnt at sunrise. Oh, and the explicit instruction to never step out of the Lost Woods and into the Forest of Carnutes under pain of death.  
  
Not that Jaune needed telling twice on that last one - the Forest of Carnutes was reputed to be a nightmarish place, from which only his father and mothers had ever survived. Bianca and Violet had gone there a few times before they left for the Academies, and had looked dead on their feet when they came out, even with Dad escorting them. There were stories about teenagers who ran away from home to avoid boarding school in Lutetia and ended up in the Forest of Carnutes, whether by mistake or desperation.  
  
Father had been sent to recover the bodies.  
  
Thankfully the stone markers inlaid with ancient jade were incredibly easy to spot, and Jaune steered clear of the death-trap to instead contend with the monsters and beasts that called the Lost Woods their home.  
  
Like this pack of hungry wolves he had angered.  
  
Jaune’s feet barely touched the ground as he raced, trying to remember how that Lightfoot technique worked. Da-Sifu never taught him the method, but he’d been spying on Azure while she practiced, and all Jaune could really understand was that it involved a kind of energy in the body that Jaune didn’t know how to use.  
  
He was sure he had it though, because he could feel it sometimes when he did his exercises. It was also noticeable when he prayed every day and every night. Or did Sun Salutation exercises. It was a kind of super-power that was his and his alone. But Azure had something like it, as did Mom and Dad and other-Mom as well as all his sisters.  
  
And when they used it, it was like there was this thrum in the fabric of the universe that just resounded with one’s will. Violet once said it was called Aura.  
  
It was magical.  
  
But Jaune hadn’t been told the trick, and was trying to invent it himself on the fly. While running from the pack of starving canines with their ruddy-grey coats and snarling jaws that barks and yipped directions as the pack swarmed.  
  
He pulled back on a low-hanging branch as he ran past, letting it whip back and smack a yelping wolf in the snout. That gave him a meter or two more lead on the pack than before, but they were quickly catching up.  
  
Part of Jaune worried about what would happen if they caught up with him. Another part of Jaune chastised himself for not looking where he was going and tripping over that root when he ran into the wolves.  
  
To be honest, he’d been singing and humming to himself all the way along, letting his feelings of calm and friendship wash throughout the woods. It was a lot like the song he sang for Shine-Eye, but now he could tell that that magical power inside him was humming with him, resonating through something that wasn’t sound, but nevertheless displaying that the energy wasn’t just in him, but all around him.  
  
Birds chirped along to his tune, the squirrels chattered as they raced along with him. A burrow of voles had come out to chitter their song. Foxes brushed against his feet, bushy tails tickling as they nuzzled into his hands.  
  
A doe and her fawn paused to lend their ears, showing Jaune some trails his wilderness-training hadn’t picked up on, leading up towards the peak as he found the path.  
  
Rabbits had leaped to join him in their own form of dance, exulting in the glories of nature. Bears danced along with him, joining him in their lumbering two step as Jaune knew no one would ever believe he’d attempted an impromptu choreography with bear cubs and their grizzly mother before being reminded of his time-limit and destination.  
  
The wolves had been hunting an injured boar when they were drawn by the music. He’d crossed the stream with the help of a friendly snake showing him how to find the shallows, and was well on his way towards the slopes. So when the wolves appeared from the brush, Jaune had only thought they were being friendly to see who was wandering their territories and making music.  
  
They said as much with their barks and yips, their bodies a language of its own. Jaune was quickly learning how the animals talked, and felt very much proud of himself for being so clever as to learn it.  
  
No one would ever believe him, but that wasn’t too much of an issue for Jaune. If he ever got bored, he would be able to have a conversation with birds about what it was like to fly, or cats about their sunny afternoons, and horses about how much he appreciated them allowing humans to ride them.  
  
Not that most of those animals would really understand all that - animals weren’t particularly bright like humans and faunus were, Jaune noticed.  
  
But the wolves were relatively neutral with Jaune, mostly sniffing about him as he walked along. It was actually quite distracting really, as their noses were wet and they licked his hands sending shivers down his arms.  
  
So distracting that he hadn’t noticed the tree root which caught his foot, tripping him with a discordant scream escaping his lips. And the fall landed him on the pack alpha’s, throwing it to the ground with a yelp in his scramble to keep standing. He might have accidentally punched it in the mouth too. And maybe planted his foot in its gut as he tried to get off. He wasn’t entirely sure at the time.  
  
Getting up with a groan, Jaune had attempted to sing again, but found that the wolves were no longer in the mood for music and fun. They had remembered they were hungry, and that Jaune had just ‘attacked’ the pack alpha.  
  
Now he was going to be food.  
  
So Jaune ran, little legs carrying him rapidly through the forest as he ignored the pain of his bare feet on the dirt and stones, leaping over bushes to slow down the wolves, winding through the trees as he tried to figure out how to get that Lightfoot to work properly.   
  
At best, he was just relying on the fact that he’d been spending the last several months running back and forth, sometimes with weighted loads, and training his endurance. That practice was saving his life at the moment, as it allowed him to keep just ahead of the wolves.  
  
But unless he could figure out that Lightfoot…  
  
Wait.  
  
A stream, up ahead! Jaune was on the right track at least, but it was a hope. If the stream was too deep, he might be able to swim faster than the wolves, and escape into a tree and try screaming for help. If was too shallow, it would barely slow them down.  
  
It was worth a shot.  
  
Jaune bolted out of the tree line, feet scraping against the silt by the stream, breathing deep to make as big a leap as possible to get far into the stream before he had to try and swim -   
  
And cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings.  
  
***SWOOSH!***  
  
The ground fell away beneath Jaune’s feet as he felt something seize him by shoulders of his tunic and carry him away. Wind beat around him in tune to the explosive sounds of massive, feathered wings, and Jaune could feel the press of talons on the cloth threatening to pierce his skin.  
  
Looking up, Jaune found himself confronted with the underside of a massive bird, heading towards the ridge. Shatterpeak, in fact. As best as he could remember, this was likely a great condor. It wasn’t actually a condor of any sort - it resembled an eagle or hawk more than a condor, to be honest - but that was just what people called these massive birds. It seemed a little silly, really.  
  
They competed with the strix on the other side of the ridge for hunting grounds, but as strix were nocturnal, it seemed like the two families of massive bird-beasts had found an equilibrium they were happy with. Both were equally happy to chase away any Nevermore or Griffons that entered their skies, but more often than not the Grimm were all too willing to fight back, taking one of these majestic birds with them.   
  
Problem was this one didn’t have that bracelet on it’s foot and the mark under its neck that marked the great condor Dad had told was “reasonably friendly”. So it was probably going to eat him. Jauned whined at the thought.  
  
Well, at least there was one bright side to this disaster: It was taking him to Shatterpeak. But now it seemed like instead of wolf-food, he was going to be bird-food!  
  
“Out of the frying pan, into the fire, huh?”  
  
Not a good end to a would-be hero, Jaune admitted. But perhaps he could charm this bird into helping him instead.  
  
With a few test hums, Jaune noticed that the bird must not be hearing him due to the wind. He’d have to shout and test the might of his resonant song.  
  
He was distracted for a moment or two when the great condor shifted him in it’s talons as its wings swept past low flying clouds. The passing of the white feathered wings slicing through the wisps of moisture like a blade through mist was enthralling, and Jaune wondered if anyone had thought to make a martial art based on these mighty birds. How sharp their eyes must be, to pick out something as small as Jaune or the other animals they hunted, from all the way up here. Perhaps he could learn to do the same?  
  
Then again, he was feeling a little woozy this high up, and looking down was just making him panic. But the more he looked, the more he could see, and understand the topography of his home and the wilderness it neighbored.  
  
What had seemed so mighty and grand from down there was almost tiny in perspective from up here. The streams Jaune struggled to cross without issue were like tiny veins of blue in a sea of emerald green, the air cooling as the condor carried him up, reminding him that the summer was nearing it’s end, and both his mothers and his sisters would be home for Calibration. The trees were like slender spines on the back of a great beast from this angle, their leaves nothing more than soft, deceitful camouflage.  
  
The terrain unfolded before him, and he saw the slope and swells of the land, the way that the clouds chased around in the skies, and the bountiful reaches of Heaven above, illusive and untouchable by mortal hand. Orleans, in the distance by the river, was a glittering paradise of stone and painted wood, light glistening upon the coursing river  
  
He saw the approach to the many-crowned head of Shatterpeak, it’s ridges and woven spires reaching from the earth to touch the heavens. Quickly he puzzled out the language of the birds, and wove his song to draw the great condor’s attention.  
  
The majestic creature took a moment to notice, the sound having trouble carrying against the wind that rushed past Jaune and the condor as it flew towards its nest. He had to sing over the din of its beating wings, each like a thunderclap from this close, stirring the air like a broom swept the floor, throwing the air like it was a plaything for the great condor to glide and smoothly dance over.  
  
He could see his song take effect, the condor’s cries joining him as it added to his song.  
  
It sang of high mountains and low valleys. Of verdant grasslands and rocky cliffs. The majesty of the sky, and the prey below. The plucked two-leggers that dominated the world, and forced it to these mountains. The birth-place it fled once it learned to fly, away from the featherless hunters who dared steal his siblings. The brother it had found once more, freed of bounds, yet changed by strife. Of its understanding and acceptance of hunger, the ruthlessness of the hunt, its sacred duty to the god of great condors, and the aloof detachedness that came to mighty lords of the air.  
  
The great condor sang of the Holy Cloud Wars of the past that its mother once sang of in the nest. Its first flight, and the thunderbird which spoke to it as it fell through the air, telling it and now telling Jaune the secret of the wing, as the thunderbirds had told its ancestors when they were born from the blood and jubilant thunderclaps of wind-gods. It had a name, but Jaune did not understand it’s meaning. The bird spoke spoke of spirits of air that danced through the clouds and chased through the trees below. Of storms and power, thunder and lightning, and the conflict and arguments it had with the annoying strix. Of the time it had witnessed a garda-hatchling tending to the flames of a tree-fire after a lightning strike, sweeping the crowns before disappearing in the smoke which took days to preen out of its feathers. Its song described the power of storms ravaging the world and the arguments of storm-serpents and weather gods over their duties and territories.  
  
Of the mate who had wandered away to be trapped in a dance with a cloud spirit, unable to return for several springs, and the eggs it wished to have in the far future with its mate: children to tell stories as its mother would tell it. It mused at Jaune’s prompting that perhaps the fleshy two-legger who was singing to it in the language of the birds was in fact a decent sort if it could carry a tune like a great condor and appreciate the majesty of its world.  
  
Jaune, on the other hand, revised his opinion on birds - from the woodland, everyday variety he had assumed them to be creatures of limited intelligence. But the great condor was clearly an exception.  
  
Still, as he kindly added the request to be dropped off close to the path up Shatterpeak to his song, that perhaps he had made a friend of this great condor. And from the way it gabbed, it was likely to tell many of the other creatures of the Lost Woods of the boy who sang in the language of the birds, crafting music like the whispers of the spirit-lords which spoke to them in their dreams.  
  
Jaune couldn’t help but flush at the compliment. His voice wasn’t as great as the bird made it out to be - he hadn’t mastered the language, after all. But apparently having a pretty voice was good enough, regardless of faulty grammar.  
  
What was possibly worse for Jaune’s composure was the comment that his pretty voice would likely attract a good mate, but he seemed much too small for a tailless monkey to do that yet. He’d have to grow bigger and learn to fly if he wanted to be a proper male.  
  
Jaune admitted to not knowing how to fly - he had no wings.  
  
The condor was amused, laughing as it described the conundrum of its majestic body. The great condor’s bones had to be strong to support its size and girth. Yet light enough to glide and soar on the winds. It had powerful wings and sharp talons. Its tail feathers were splendid. It was the great condor’s right to fly.  
  
The featherless ape would have to be satisfied with mimicking the great condor’s mighty trick. The best it could try for now was leaping like a great monkey king. Perhaps one day, the human prey it carried and befriended would learn to leap across clouds, or devise his own method of using the great condor’s method.  
  
There were many gaps in the knowledge, as the bird had no care for human anatomy or understanding of the energy flows of humans and faunus. But the principle was the idea that sufficiently cultivated energy was a necessary step, then it was simply a matter of conscious direction and practice until it became almost subconscious and automatic.  
  
The condor did not know how to explain how a human was to cultivate these energies, just that the one it carried had them and could cultivate and train them. Great condors grew up and lived forever. Then they died, and ascended to become spirits of air and wind, where they would find the limitless hunting-grounds of Heaven, with impossibly vast skies of endless blue. The bird knew it was so, for its mother had whispered it was so when it was just an egg. There was no need for explanation of what was considered obvious, so it had none.  
  
Not long after the explanation of the trick, Jaune spotted the trail he would need to get to the shrine. He had been there as a child, and the markers along the path were ancient but noticeable as the great condor swept along the treeline.  
  
With his song, Jaune requested that he take his leave of his new friend, and that perhaps he would be back to say hello sometime if he could. The condor merely swooped low before releasing its talons on Jaune. The boy fell and tumbled to the ground as he had practiced before, none the worse for the wear as the condor hovered.  
  
At the boy’s wave farewell, the great condor let out a mighty cry to shake the heavens, gales stirred by its mighty wings as it left to return to the hunt. Watching it disappear around the sides of the mountain as it hunted, Jaune wondered if his father would be surprised at how quickly Jaune had gotten there.  
  
He then pondered whether the bird hadn’t been making things up when it told him how to leap through the sky and stir the wind. It sounded like a great technique!  
  


\-------------------------Prince Not Princess-------------------------

  
Roland failed to notice his son sneaking up the mountain trail before creeping up the steps hewn from the ancient stone. He was practicing his formless techniques before the statue in the shrine.  
  
A king of shining light whose crown was radiance and warmth. Resplendent lotuses blossomed at his feet and his hand bore a mudra of compassion and justice. Face fair and beautiful like a youth, but resolute and aged with wisdom. A sword was ready at his waist to cut through will of his enemies, a shield bearing the blazing iconography of the sun at the ready to defend against all assault. A bow slung across his chest which always struck true, for his eyes saw only truth. Robes of brilliant gold thread adorned his form. His scepter promised a just rule, and his statue blazed gold under the light of the sun. Such was the Golden Shining Lord to whom the Arc family prayed.  
  
The shrine was old and tended to monthly; those sisters who were home offered prayer upon the completion of their duties at the direction of their father and mothers. Jaune hadn’t been up here since the morning of his birthday - waking up by the as he was directed to bath in the stream before offering prayers at the break of dawn, before falling asleep to wake in his bed once more.  
  
Thinking about it now, as Jaune entered the circle of standing stones, fires burning bright in the braziers that surrounded the shrine, that while this wasn’t the very precipice of Shatterpeak (which had several precipices and thus looked like it’s peak had been shattered by a smite from Heaven - thus the name), it was still quite a distance from the Chateau de Lune, his family home. If he wandered a little ways to the edges where the land beneath his feet fell away to open air, he would be able to see the home. His father once mentioned it only took him twenty minutes by foot to reach the Shining Lord’s shrine from the chateau, which spoke of either secret passages or the ability to fly.  
  
Naturally, Jaune would have to take the long way up here until his father deemed his skills acceptable enough to take the “easy-way” up to the shrine.  
  
Jaune contented himself with watching his father finish his practices - a dance of some sort, but done with his father’s personal sword: Durendal.  
  
Durendal was a beautiful blade. Jadesteel with a cruciform hilt, it’s orichalcum alloyed fuller was inscribed with runes in the language of the old gods. The sword shone white like a ray of light captured in the warrior’s hand, hilt golden from the orichalcum adornments which befitted a sword of majesty, inscribed with prayers to ensure the blade’s might.  
  
It was an artifact of eons past, used by heroes and cared for by the greatest of smiths in legend. The blade was unbreakable, destroying any weapon which attempted to destroy such a beautiful weapon, and so sharp that its edge was capable of shearing a boulder in two with a single swing. Its motion stirred the air, the idle promise of a hurricane chained to a blade, and in the hands of a master was capable of unleashing a swift end to thousands in a mere instant.   
  
His father’s skill was already at the level that he didn’t need weapons to slay monsters - a single twig was enough to fell an Ursa Major. With the holy Durendal, his loyal sword, in hand, who could gainsay Roland the Brave?  
  
But seeing his father practice was the ancient sword, one whose design and style had fallen out of style in the last century since the Great War, reminded Jaune of other sights he had seen. Images and memories he knew he shouldn’t have because Jaune wasn’t in these visions. Dreams of people he didn’t know, yet was intimately familiar with. They were like family he had never met, and Roland’s sword and his practice up here reminded Jaune of those dreams.  
  
The dancing blade glistened under the sunlight parting through the sparse clouds, the practice stilled as Roland sheathed the sword. Jaune finally stepped forward and his father took notice.  
  
“How long have you been there, Jaune?” his surprised father asked.  
  
“Not long,” was his honest answer.  
  
Roland straightened and glanced down the mountain path, before looking up at the sun in the sky. He noted the direction and length of the shadows, and made a sound of amazement.  
  
“I didn’t expect you till nightfall. I had a tent prepared for the night, to do the rights once the sun rose.”  
  
Jaune rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. He wondered if getting the help of the inhabitants of the Lost Woods might be cheating. “I made some friends in the Lost Woods who helped me out.”  
  
“Friends?” Roland raised an eyebrow.  
  
“I was running from wolves, when a great condor snatched me. I managed to convince it to let me off by the steps.”  
  
Roland blinked as his son just gave the man a shy smile.  _‘Honesty,’_  the man noticed, shaking his head with a teasing smile.  
  
“Good grief, Jaune. You certainly have a way with animals, don’t you? First the angry bull you calmed with a song, now you tell me you’ve spoken to one of the Lost Woods’ mightiest birds, a great condor?”  
  
“Animals aren’t very bright, but they helped out alot! And they’re really nice if you sing and dance with them the way they like, and they told me all sorts of tricks and secrets to surviving in the woods. Except the wolves, but only because I hurt their leader by accident when I tripped over a root.” Jaune’s pout was adorable.  
  
Roland laughed. “What have I said about trees, Jaune? What’s the most important part of the tree?”  
  
Jaune mumbled petulantly under his breath. Roland cupped his ear and leaned closer. “What was that?” he asked mirthfully. “I didn’t quite catch that?”  
  
“The roots…” Jaune muttered.  
  
“That’s right -”  
  
**_*WHUMP!*_**  
  
Jaune fell to the ground, his legs gone from under him as his side hit the stone beneath him. Shocked, Jaune reacted like he had been trained, leaping back to his feet, wary as his father had just looked down at him, not the least bit perturbed by the leg sweep he’d just done to his son. It almost seemed like he hadn’t noticed he’d done so.  
  
“- so mind your roots, little sapling.”  
  
“Yes Dad.”  
  
“Dad?”  
  
“I mean, yes Sifu.”  
  
“Good. Now change into the spare clothes I packed, and let’s ask the gods to keep you from dying during training.”  
  


\-------------------------Prince Not Princess-------------------------

  
The prayers were different from what Jaune remembered. But he reasoned it was due to the circumstances. Jaune prepared for the rites as always - ritual bathing and purification, the burning of incenses and various fragrances whose fumes settled the area like mist, followed by prayers to the god of beginnings and the lords of the thresholds of rituals. Then came the salutations to the directions and the reverences due to various divinities who might be in attendance, invisible to their mortal eyes (but Jaune was certain he could spot them now, just out of the corner of his eyes, and his father was uncannily good at guessing their names).  
  
This was followed by the sacred dances which Jaune always found a little silly, but his father explained they were just a way of showing off the family’s skill in the arts. It got the heart pumping, and dancing to the tune of their song as they breathed in the scent of the burned offerings put them in the right frame of mind. It was a ritual process with many symbols that Jaune idly recognized and intuitively understood the purposes of, but was ultimately uninterested in as he poured his soul into the simple act of dance. Dancing was easy for Jaune; he was good at it, and thus greatly enjoyed the art of dance. There was an energy there, but it pervaded the world as Jaune found the dance helping in tune those energies to a specific song.  
  
Then the call to the Shining Lord to grace the shrine with his benevolent presence to witness their prayers and the ritual in question, to receive their offerings and request the Lord’s blessings. The god was named and bade to grace them with the presence of the divine.  
  
Jaune could feel the weight of the prayers starting to take hold, noting it was very much like the energy he could feel within him, and within all the living creatures he had met and in the earth and water and skies and fire. The energy and thrum was always different - different songs sung to different tunes accompanied by different dances.  
  
But the energy he could feel as the prayers built to height and the offerings were made as the sun scattered red and violet hues through the sky, making its descent beyond the horizon, was powerful enough for Jaune to take notice. His father didn’t seem to feel much of the difference, but Jaune knew that something was listening.  
  
The gods were not simply hearing their prayer - they were taking notice.  
  
A burning sensation touched Jaune as his father ushered him forward, presenting him to the icon of the Shining Lord much like his mothers presented him on his birthday. They kneeled and bowed in supplication as the statue blazed from the light of the fading sun as it scattered a rainbow of hues across the skies. His father motioned for him to say the special prayers he had been taught, and the language of the old gods fell from his lips before building into a crescendo as the images wrought from his dreams seized hold.  
  
Jaune saw himself, but not himself, standing at the altar of temples he had never visited, offering prayers in languages of divinities, and speaking with the lords and ladies of Heaven. He saw himself, but not himself, traveling the world and not the world, for there were many wonders he had only pictured in the writings of books and fairy tales. He used, but did not use, this language to perform miracles and help people. Legends were spoken in this tongue, and he knew it well, though his parents had only ever taught him a few words and phrases. It was almost natural to him, as if he had been born knowing the language of the gods and the power it held without ever understanding its truth. With these words, the gods spoke mountains to rise from the earth, spoke rivers to sprout from nothingness, to cause oceans to form. To bring fire and life as wood grew from the ground and the skies above spun and danced as the wind raced free. It was written on the walls and ceilings of the temples of forgotten civilizations, its words emblazoned to name the houses and districts and roads of the Celestial City. This was the language of the gods, and its words were the words of Heaven.  
  
It was old and powerful and greater than Jaune. He knew it by heart, as he had spoken it before.  
  
Jaune humbly requested the Shining Lord hear his plea and answer the request his father wished him to make - for the blessing of the old gods, and the blessing that he might fulfill his filial duties as a son to his parents, as a brother to his sisters, as a friend and comrade to his close friends and acquaintances, as a student to his teachers and instructors, and servant to those whom he owed loyalty, respect and devotion. For his lessons in the use of Aura and the ways of the Xia be fruitful, his faith to his cause be unbreakable. His legend - immortal. Soul unbound, infinite in scope, possessing virtue beyond compare: everlasting glory under Heaven!  
  
Then he named himself, voice echoing on the mountain-top shrine nestled in the comfort of the crowned earthen spires thrust to heaven, the circle of standing stones resonating like a tuning fork to his words:  
  
“For I am Jaune Luna Arc of Orleans, born to Lord Roland Arc de Braye, Lady Aude de Gennes and Lady Kareena Vyaghra. Brother to seven older sisters, scion of heroes, and knight-errant in training.  
  
“I am… I am a…”  
  
Jaune paused, hesitant. His brows furrowed in confusion. He was forgetting something. There was another title there, and it was important. But he couldn’t remember what it was supposed to be another title, and it was of paramount importance to who he was. It wasn’t there last time he did this, nor among those his father had told him to include as well. But it was still a salient title.  
  
It was something that defined him now, but he… what was it? What was this title he held that was so important? What was…  
  
His body exploded with light, and his brow ignited with the blessings of the sun.  
  
Oh.  
  
He could hear the celestial maidens playing the songs of heaven in the courts of gods, their beauty enough to enchant lesser men and their hands skillfully playing instruments whose strings were glistening light, plucked and fingered to the song of a chorus of cherubim. Their voices lifted to heaven and proclaimed the might and power of the Shining Lord’s justice, and the virtue of the King of Heaven. He could hear the roar of celestial lions at the gates, the songs of heaven unfolding as the statue seemed to come to life before his very eyes. The song was merely his herald.  
  
His eyes pierced through all illusion, seeing the truth of the world, and Jaune felt naked before his gaze. The torc around Jaune’s neck burned with the power coursing through him, prayers uttered during it’s forging known to him instantly. He could feel his skin being stripped away, flesh evaporating, borns flung to the horizons as Jaune felt his soul laid bare.  
  
And the Shining Lord smiled.  
  
**“Thou art Lawgiver, Chosen of the Unconquered Sun, Priest of the Most High. Perhaps more. What blessings thou request of me, thou art already possess, child, or easily within thine reach.”**  
  
Jaune blinked in surprise, before looking down at his hands. Light shone from his body, pure white, as it wisped like smoke from a heatless sun. He was drawing in power, making it his, and using it to make his will be done. But the force driving it all was within him already. It was his.  
  
This was…  _power_. Excellence. Perfection. Overwhelming Radiance. Infinite in depth and shattered limitations. It was his soul made light, mixed with something infinitely greater in potential. That which shook Heaven to its roots and forged the greatest of legends in its deeds. It was Aura, and at the same time, so much more than such a simple expression of his soul’s spiritual voice.  
  
He was a Lawgiver, and this was his right.  
  
“Huh.”  
  
He’d done this all wrong. Jaune was using the energy within him to filter the celestial energies inherent to prayer and utilizing his body to transform that energy into something that would reach past the mortal realm to the divine, drawing the attention of a god to the mortal world, then forcing said god to appear and manifest physically through an open channel Jaune himself was sustaining. Jaune felt lucky the god he had called upon was understanding and hadn’t moved to try smiting him for his temerity.  
  
The strain had already begun to tax him physically as his Inner Strength and the energies that coursed through his meridians were rapidly used up in this faulty and inefficient call. The power of prayer had allowed him to accidentally brute-force his way past the usual methods of calling gods to being on the mortal world, but taking the burden of manifestation of a divinity as powerful as the Shining Lord was immense. The open channel was starting to drain from his surroundings, and his father was quickly passing out. Jaune hurriedly began drawing back out of this unexpected summonings, breaking the connections that were allowing the channel to sap his energies and rescind his summons, sending the divinity back to Heaven before Jaune destroyed himself.  
  
The Shining Lord only gave him a gentle smile before the chorus died away and the blazing light emanating from the figure disappeared in the blink of an eye, returning to an ancient and ornate statue of immense beauty once more.  
  
Jaune idly noted his success and muttered a prayer begging forgiveness for botching this up, and a short prayer to the lord of endings to finish this before slumping to join his father in unconsciousness.  
  
When the two woke up, Jaune and his father found the lights gone, the skies dark with the moon hanging behind idle clouds, the flames in the braziers burning low. It was well into the night and the incense had long vanished, the statue still and serene as always.  
  
Part of Jaune wondered if it was only a dream. But he could feel the thrum of some fire burning deep within him, and doubted that very much.   
  


\-------------------------Prince Not Princess-------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There’s a lot happening in this chapter, and some are fun things that go about when you realize that Solars are surprisingly good at talking to animals, especially since some of their abilities are straight up “I’m a goddamn Disney Princess, and woodland creatures love me”. Intelligent, nigh-immortal God-blooded birds the size of small airplanes capable of carrying off a heifer in its talons, on the other hand, are just good conversation. Also, prayer is amazing in Exalted, but sadly under utilized as a plot element in my games on account of my players treating it like fluff.


	7. Drunk Spider Party

“So, I see we’re running from Chloe.”  
  
“Wow, Nino! Nothing escapes your eyes!”  
  
It was true - the two boys were indeed running through the side streets of Orleans, as was usual with boys their age during the lunch period, and the direction they were running was indeed away from the young blonde with a ponytail and her red-headed minion.  
  
“Ha ha, laugh it up. Mind telling me why we’re running from Chloe?”  
  
“She’s trying to give me a scarf.”  
  
“And this explains why we are bolting from her and Sabrina… how?”  
  
“Because I don’t want the scarf and don’t know how to tell her that it looks itchy and if I take it I’m worried I’ll have an allergic reaction or something. Not to mention that if I take it she’ll start calling me an idiot again like when I told her her hair pin looked nice,” Jaune explained. “And if I don’t take it, she’ll be mad and want to know why. And if I tell her I think it’s tacky, she’ll start hitting me. And if I lie, she’ll know and hit me anyways. And if I took it and my sisters found out, then Olivia and Chloe would start arguing again, and I really don’t want that to happen!”  
  
“I see,” Nino nodded sagely, wise that he was in the ways of the world, as the two boys attempted to run away from the girl who was calling after them. So they darted through the alleyways to lose her.  
  
“Good,” Jaune smiled, happy his friend understood.  
  
“So we’re running away because you’re being a coward.”  
  
“What?” Jaune spluttered indignantly. “No! I’m not a… we’re not… this is a  _tactical retreat_!”  
  
“From a girl.”  
  
“Yes! Girls are scary. Pretty, but  _scary_.”  
  
“This, coming from the boy who wore a blouse last week...”  
  
Jaune nearly face-faulted as he mumbled in his defense, “Azure said… I thought it was a tunic…”  
  
“You were wearing a matching hairband and bracelet. You color coordinated with your socks!” Nino proclaimed, much to Jaune annoyance because they’d already talked about this.  
  
“What, guys can’t look nice?”  
  
“It was a blouse! You had makeup on!”  
  
“My  _sisters_  put it on me! They’re scary! Pretty and soft and lovable and warm, but scary!”  
  
Nino paused. No matter how pretty Jaune’s sisters were (which he couldn’t help but admit, no matter how much the brunette knew without a doubt that all girls that weren’t moms were kinda icky), nor how much they were loved by the schools and people around town who knew them well, there was no denying that Jaune’s sisters were bloody terrifying sometimes. Mostly because they were all trained from an early age how to defend themselves. Even sweet, charitable Olivia who helped with the school gardens on occasion was known to have a mean left hook. And the older ones were far more skillful than most Huntresses-in-training their ages. They weren’t called the Seven Deadly Sisters for nothing.  
  
“Point,” Nino acceded as they caught their breath while hiding behind an automobile parked in the alleyway by the cobbler’s shop. “But that doesn’t explain why  _I’m_  running away too.”  
  
Jaune turned to the other boy, shocked. “Because we’re friends, and you’re sharing my pain?”  
  
“What! How is that fair?”  
  
“Well, I just thought that since you started running when I did that you understood that!”  
  
“No, it’s ridiculous! Let’s get back to the school’s grounds, you’re being an idiot!”  
  
Jaune gasped dramatically as Nino slowed, moving to head back. “Betrayal! Betrayal most foul! How could you suggest I return there to meet my doom?”  
  
Nino just deadpanned at Jaune. “Dude, really? Doom?”  
  
Jaune pouted. “Well, it was worth a shot.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, man up,” Nino rolled his eyes as Jaune reluctantly followed him back to the school yard.  
  
They took the long way back to avoid Chloe and Sabrina, mostly at Jaune’s begging and awfully effective mimicry of puppy-dog eyes, aiming to enter through the back of the school. On the way they noted that the main streets were lined with men and women putting up decorations for the Calibration festivities. The buildings were cleared of dust and blemish, the inn, taverns and restaurants bristling with orders to fill later during the parties, streets being lined with streamers and the laundry lines decorated with stars and crosses.  
  
Booths were beginning to pop up and be decorated in the town square, selling wares and promising treats and entertainment the next week during the five-day holiday. The people were busy, and it wasn’t just the fact that Calibration was a hectic time of year, but most importantly, it was one of the strangest times of year. And during such days of uncertainty, nothing was safer or more appealing than a good old fashioned festival. On the days when the sky darkens as the harvest seasons finish and the autumn falls away towards the snows of winter.  
  
Jaune was enraptured by the preparations, as he usually was. Calibration was always a mysterious time for him, mostly on account of the fact that he was rarely allowed to attend for too long, and never unaccompanied. His sisters had stories about how fun and magical they all were, and the sights that could be seen only during a Calibration festival in full swing at night. He paid particular attention to a masks booth being set up, marveling at a tiger mask with a fierce roar on it’s black lips, teeth bared in menace as it’s painted expression showed it’s dreadful might.  
  
“I wonder if I have enough to get that for Mom,” Jaune wondered aloud as he rummaged through his pocket for his allowance.  
  
Nino blinked and gave him a look, before remembering what his friend meant. “Oh yeah, your other mom arrived a few days ago, didn’t she? I keep forgetting you have two of them.”  
  
Jaune shrugged. “Yeah, she did. Would have liked more warning, but that’s Mom for you. Gone for months at a time, then suddenly appearing out of nowhere to savage you with her hugs and affection. And claws.”  
  
“Seriously?” Nino laughed.  
  
“Yup.”  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

  
Jaune had been doing laps around the training grounds when he noted a distortion at the edge of his vision. Immediately he dodged to the side as the projectile screamed past where his head and neck used to be. The boy tucked and rolled away as he figured more rocks would follow up the initial assault, but he couldn’t find easy cover and would have to hope his reflexes were fast enough to avoid the rocks.  
  
Speaking of rocks, what in the world was that rock his Dad had thrown at him? It was huge, almost like a boulder, only long and red and black and orange, with limbs and…  
  
Oh no.  
  
Jaune whirled as he spotted the figure immediately tensing as it landed on all fours before springing back towards him, forelimbs outstretched as razor sharp claws extended from the pads of the figure’s fingertips.  
  
Jaune wasn’t ready for this! He hadn’t even graduated from rock-training, how was he supposed to handle this?!?!  
  
“JAUNE!!!! I’VE MISSED YOU!!!!!!”  
  
The feline-esque figure tackled Jaune to the ground as her tiger claws broke through his defenses to wrap him into a bone breaking embrace, bearing him down to the ground. The woman quickly rubbed her cheek against Jaune’s in an affectionate manner as she leaped to her feet, Jaune barely more than a rag doll in her mighty arms.  
  
“Hi Mom. You’re back early. Dad was expecting you tomorrow.”  
  
“What, you didn’t miss me?”  
  
“No! I’m just surprised you’re early! And that Dad’s likely going to move me from rocks to acorns if I could dodge one of your surprise hugs…”  
  
Kareena Vyaghra, much like the tigress whose claws she shared, had a toothy smile that was both fascinating and fear-inspiring. But to Jaune and his sisters, it was one of the warmest smiles they knew, full of love and passion. She was their tiger mother, and they loved her. Her skin was lightly tanned from long days as a Huntress, just returned from a long-term mission. Her hair was the color of a tiger’s hide, all orange and rough with patches of white and lines of dark black, styled in a lazy braid and tail. Her claws were sharp, yet her fingers were soft like feline pads, and her teeth were like the great cat’s fangs, and Jaune knew better than to make her angry.  
  
So he let her smother him in her bosom as she carried him inside where his other mother Aude was laughing quietly behind a long sleeve.  
  
“So I hear you started the Pell and are learning Row’s Inner Energy methods.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Are they bearing fruit, little cub?”  
  
“I think so?”  
  
Kareena looked down at Jaune, still trapped in her arms, struggling to get free. “You  _think_  so?”  
  
“Well, it’s hard to tell. Sometimes it works, sometimes there’s a block like it’s going the wrong way or taking a longer route to the same place. I dunno how else to describe it.”  
  
Kareena frowned.  
  
“Sounds like I need to talk to my dear husband about your training, little cub.”  
  
Jaune paled at the sound of that. “Please don’t throw me into a tiger pit like you threw Violet,” he whimpered, terrified.  
  
His mother merely raised an imperious eyebrow as she looked down at him. “What was that?” Her arms tightened, fingers dangerous.  
  
“Nothing!”  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

  
“You’re kidding.”  
  
“Nope.”  
  
“She threw your sister in a tiger pit?”  
  
“Well, no…”  
  
“Oh, thank God.”  
  
“They couldn’t find tigers on such short notice, so Dad rustled up some rabid bears from the Lost Woods and then Mom threw Violet into the pit with them.”  
  
Nino face-faulted, tripping over his own feet at the sound of that manner of training. Recovering quickly, he attempted to join Jaune in nervous laughter as they continued to walk along.  
  
“Well, at least Calibration ought to be fun. You looking forward to anything specific, Nino?”  
  
Nino grinned. “It’s a five day holiday, mec. What’s not to love?”  
  
“Well, I heard Father Gambe’s really enthusiastic about this year’s sermons…” Jaune noted. For Oumists, Calibration was one of the most holy of festivals - every morning of Calibration, the ‘flock’ gathered in churches and cathedrals to pray and listen to sermons. All the fun stuff happened afterwards, and being made to wait through that was a struggle for many children.  
  
“Killjoy,” Nino scowled.  
  
“Hey, Calibration is one of a Huntsman’s busiest weeks. Dad’s not around much as he’s preparing for it, and my Moms are going to be busy readying my sisters for the daily rites. All the other huntsmen will be patrolling the walls and fields and making sure nothing goes wrong at the ruins and the barrows or anywhere else. And I’m not even allowed outside the house during Calibration without my parents around, and can’t even be outdoors after sundown.  _You’re_  an Oumist - you just need to listen to sermons each morning, and every night is a party for you.”  
  
Nino frowned at that. “Really? Why aren’t you allowed outside?”  
  
“Evil omens or something. Dad says monsters tend to show up during Calibration because all the magic is wonky and Heaven is on sabbatical for the holiday to keep track of it. So Dad wants I’m to be safe at home, especially after nightfall.”  
  
“Huh. My dad says everything is strange during Calibration because God’s preparing the world for winter and the next year, and pray to make sure He hears our souls while thanking Him for a bountiful harvest. After that, we celebrate all the good things that happened since the last one and pray we don’t have too much bad until the next. And party hard because winter’s around the corner.”  
  
Jaune shrugged. “That’s cool too.”  
  
“So, what, you’re just going to stick around at home then?”  
  
“Guess so.”  
  
“Sounds boring.”  
  
“Eh, I figure something will come up to keep me occupied. Mom’s insisting I spend the time reading through all those books and helping translate which is boring, but who knows, maybe there’ll be an interesting read among them.”  
  
Nino’s snort showed his opinion about that clearly. Jaune sighed. He wasn’t very convinced either.  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

  
Like the few Calibration celebrations Jaune could remember, this one began the same way as all the others - with Jaune being told which prayers to recite to which entities before filing away to do virtually nothing of consequence. Though, it was at least the first day, so his father decided to take him to Orleans to allow Jaune to play ball games with his friends, and if it wasn’t too late by the end of it, they could watch the fights on the lei-tai until tea-time.  
  
Naturally, Jaune lost at foot-ball. This wasn’t unexpected because Jaune somehow ended up on the team opposing virtually every athletic boy and girl their age. It was somewhat daunting to attempt to win against the allied forces of Kim, Alix, Nino, and Ivan among others when you were the only sporty type on your team. Foot-ball was a team game, after all. Cunning stratagems did allow them to score two goals past Ivan’s bulk at the net, but they couldn’t prevent the other team from scoring six in return.  
  
After Jaune’s team was eliminated in the first round, he found himself free to play at the other games on the athletic fields. Under overcast skies, Jaune idled with some of the old-timers playing Gateway, their old bones and injuries from long careers preventing them from partaking in the athletic merriment.  
  
Jaune quickly found himself learning much about the game, despite himself, as the wily old coots were able display a cunning that only came from experience, and picked up several new stratagems that weren’t discussed in traditional manuals (not that Jaune ever bothered using the manuals - they were far too predictable, after all). He also managed to successfully dodge their pinches at his cheeks this year!  
  
Afterwards, he gave some of his pocket money for the day to a beggar panning the streets, before watching the duels and bouts on the lei tai, a raised platform roughly four feet in height off the ground, marvelling at the display of spear vs staff and noting the lines of attack each contestant used.  
  
Then Monsieur Lahiffe noticed Roland in the crowd and decided a challenge was in order, for a bit of fun. Nino’s father and his dueled in a spectacular display of speed and skill, neither giving ground as they played for the roaring mob that crowded the lei tai before Durendal sliced through the ties of Monsieur Lahiffe’s armor and Nino’s father conceded the bout. Jaune joined the mob in the applause, and watched with amusement as a drunk leaped onto the lei tai platform and challenged the “Lord Rolly” in a drunken slur before Roland could get off the platform.  
  
After the drunk was humiliated before the crowd with the cutting of his belt and the loss of his pants before getting kicked off the lei tai, Roland leaped off and took Jaune home, much to the youngster’s disappointment. It was really early and he hadn’t gotten to do all the much but lose a football game, get schooled in Gateway, and watch three bouts on the lei tai, the last of which was more a comedy than a fight.  
  
But he was home before tea, as promised, and missed out on watching the fireworks from the fields as all the others would. Instead, he was treated to instructions on wrestling from his mother while the other fanned herself while watching. Then Bianca, Violet, Sienna and Shani sparred for a little while before dinner.  
  
The combination of the twins was deadly as always. Shani’s blades were coated with super-heat as she focused her strength through the elemental fire she favored, while Sienna’s icy smears on the ground made footing difficult and dodging tricky with improper footing. Violet had little issue with that as her heels lit up with lightning, simply dancing over the ice as she used mid-air leaps to overcome Sienna’s trap before wrapping Shani in electric daggertails. As the twin was tangled in the tails, unable to break free as the jolts paralyzed her muscles, Sienna took the advantage to strike Violet out of the air with her spadroon.  
  
As Violet was flung out of the circle and eliminated by ring out, Bianca struck Sienna and overwhelmed her sister’s speed with superior reach and defense before Shani managed to recover and sent a bolt of fire at the two. Sienna simply danced out of the way before conjuring a shield of ice to protect her from the splash of flame while Bianca simply stomped the ground and displayed a slab of earth to shield her directly. Shani wasn’t expecting the eldest sister to then smash the slab towards her, and while the tigress’ daughter managed to slash the rock to dust with her paired sabers, she wasn’t able to defend against the rapid lunge of Bianca’s spear the followed in the rock’s shadows.  
  
While Shani was sent tumbling out of the ring, Bianca flung her spear at the still recovering Sienna who deflected with her spadroon. Sienna sent a wave of ice at Bianca in retaliation but Bianca rolled underneath the the spread of shards and closed the distance to recover her spear. Said spear then destroyed Sienna’s footing and toppled her to the ground where Bianca held her at her mercy. All told, the four-way duel was over in a manner of minutes as they had no desire to ruin the training ground by going all-out.  
  
Then after the mayhem that was dinner at a table of twelve - the family cat, Toulouse, had imperiously elected to grace the others with his presence that evening - Jaune retired for the night. As darkness fell, he tuned out the clamor that accompanied the fireworks which lit up the night in the distance. Oh, and the growls and howls that sounded from the woods every Calibration night as the beasts had celebrations of their own.  
  
And was that an explosion at the chateau’s gate? Oh well, must be nothing important.  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

  
Roland Arc knew something was wrong the moment one of the talismans he wore blazed to life in the middle of the night. First night of Calibration, and already there was trouble. Grumbling, he noted it was the talisman tied to the Chateau’s wards against malevolent energies and evils. That wasn’t new - the Grimm tried to break through on occasion whenever tensions ran high in the house. Usually the ones that were too stupid to learn to avoid the Chateau like a geomantic explosion.  
  
But the sheer hum of energy coming from the talisman worried Roland as he roused his wives. The lack of physical strain on the other ward talisman meant that whatever had triggered the alarm wasn’t attempting to cross the boundaries, but it’s presence was still worrisome.  
  
“Trouble,” was all he needed to explain as they woke, and readied their own weapons.  
  
Leaving his plate be in favor of quickly taking the ever-loyal Durendal in hand, Roland strode forward, bare feet crunching over the front lawn’s grass to the gates where the wards began. Aude and Kareena stood by as they made sure the children were still in bed while the fireworks exploded in the skies above.  
  
But all of a sudden there was an explosion just beyond the gates just as Roland neared them to see what lay beyond that threatened his home. The walls shook and the warrior braced himself for battle with whatever dared test his wards and walls. His wives bristled at the threshold, ready to defend their home should whatever was at the gate slip past their beloved.  
  
Quickly, Roland made a leaping feat to reach the top of the Chateau walls and see what damage the explosion had on the stone exterior. He needed to know what thought to threaten his home.  
  
He nearly fell off the wall in shock for there was nothing there but the ruined husk of a nightmarish monster, fading into nothingness. It must have been two meters tall at the shoulder, with digitigrade legs and four arms, it’s torso sheathed in an insectile carapace that shone pearlescent despite the lack of light. Dragonfly wings hung in tatters from it’s back, mantis claws on the spindly lower arms in pieces, it’s shell cracked on the back as it’s head had five red eyes that were now dull. The blades that sprouted from its forearms were shattered and a spike of what appeared to be a spear made of pure shadow dissolved through the gaping hole in its armored carapace.  
  
It was certainly not a Grimm but the fading corpse of a dead demon, disintegrating under some power Roland could not name. Immediately he searched for the cause of it’s demise and the explosive death, but found only darkness lurking at the edges of the walls, the path clear, trees and shrubs casting long shadows that could have hidden all manner of ill meaning creatures.  
  
Muttering a prayer, Roland held Durendal aloft as the blade gathered his Aura, gleaming jade steel shining like a torch as the light of Roland’s soul touched the blade and infused it with greater power. As it built to intensity, Roland gave a shout and let the light fly with a mighty slash, arcing the sheer concentration of Aura radiating off Durendal’s gleaming edge through the darkness before the walls.  
  
The front of the chateau lit up with light as the gleaming slash traveled through the air, but Roland could see no hidden assailants lurking in the shadows. Whatever had destroyed the demon was gone, leaving Roland to not only wonder why a demon had been drawn to his home, but also what had destroyed it so quickly and brutally.  
  
As the aura-slash dissipated when Roland rescinded his killing edge, the shadows quickly returned to darken the night, hiding from the flashes of light bursting in the skies above from the Calibration celebrations in town. Snarling, the warrior turned back and leaped to his wives, unable to explain what he had saw. He merely bade them forget what happened that night and return to bed.  
  
It was simply another strange event of Calibration. They would watch their children closely the next few days, and make sure all was well.  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

  
Jaune woke to a day of boredom. His parents had clearly had no sleep, but this was not an uncommon occurrence when both his mothers were home with his father. Though they did seem a little stressed out, and Jaune’s attempts to join his friends in town for the celebrations that evening were even more vehemently refused.  
  
So Jaune minded himself to pouting while Bianca and Violet supervised the five younger sisters in the games that were played while they wore their pretty dresses and the beautiful masks they had been gifted as they had all the fun in town, his mothers keeping careful watch under masks of their own. Jaune kept himself busy with reading more old books and learning about the wonders of proper irrigation and the way people apparently used to do things before they had technology to help them.  
  
To be honest, Jaune didn’t understand half of what it was referencing because the author apparently took many of its assumptions for granted or as common knowledge, but Jaune managed to piece together enough of the lessons and instructions and noted that the farms that the Arc family personally owned and were tended by Orleanian farmers followed quite a many of the principles described within. Granted, much of them were adapted to allow for the use of modern farming technology acquired from Lutetia, but the underlying concepts and principles of planting and nurturing the crops were virtually identical to the methods described in the books.  
  
Not that the manual describing various flora and fauna on the continent of Anima wasn’t fascinating either. Jaune had had no idea people in and around Mistral used to have problems with foraging wild roots to eat - apparently there were a few that were especially difficult for people to consume. The weird thing was Jaune was almost sure he’d seen those same plants ground up in the labels on his mother’s spice rack in the kitchen.  
  
A quick check told him, yes, there were things on his mother’s spice rack that the books he was reading told him were deadly poisons. But their antidotes were also other poisons found on the spice rack, which confused Jaune to no end. Eventually he found the section on herbal remedies and cures that described how there were many poisonous plants that were countered or neutralized by other poisonous plants. They typically grew near each other, so if you ate the wrong root or flower, you could find a tuber or leaf nearby that might be able to counter it before you started convulsing or something.  
  
This was explained using a reference to an untranslatable section of philosophy involving balance in all things, but seemed like utter nonsense - many of these herbs were listed without antidotes in the modern references found in the family library, but the old books claimed that other poisons could be used to generate antidotes. But to do so required careful understanding of these herbs and toxins and their assorted properties.  
  
So clearly Jaune’s mother knew what she was doing when she cooked because his sisters never touched that spice rack. It wasn’t like she was intentionally poisoning the family with every meal she cooked or anything, right? That would be ridiculous. His mother was an excellent cook, and her cooking never made him sick unless it was from eating too much and getting a tummy ache.  
  
Of course, it was probably better to study up on the flora of eastern Sanus which was far more relevant to Jaune, but a lot of things were the same across the continents. Jaune did have a fun time looking at all the flowers though, even if there were tons of sticky-notes throughout the book because the names didn’t translate well from the old languages.  
  
He tried not to pout too much or sulk noticeably when his sisters staggered inside after exhausting themselves with the games and stalls in town. Jaune failed, and Violet tried to cheer him up with the classic bucket-over-the-door prank, but that just devolved into Jaune trying to prank her back.  
  
That inevitably led to all the other siblings getting wrapped up in the mess by attempting to brain each other with pillows. Then their mothers decided to join in and got really into it which forced the eight siblings to give them a wide berth as the two women attempted to kill each other with throw pillows and fluffy cushions.  
  
The evening after that was rather uneventful as Roland merely laughed at everyone, given they were absolutely horrendous messes at dinner. Toulouse had even flicked his tail in disapproval at the messy hair and ruined dresses, but no one paid Toulouse’ opinion much mind.  
  
Jaune would later learn the next morning that the ruins of Genabaum had been the site of a Grimm attack. Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt and the monsters had been quickly slain. Nino’s dad would be resting off a sprain the next few days though, on account of badly executed narrow dodge away from a Nevermore’s talons that twisted his ankle. But the ruins would continue to be safe when the archaeologists and historians returned to their studies of the ancient monuments and relics of the timeworn city after Calibration end. The scientists and historical researchers were too busy having fun in town, and Chloe’s father was making a killing with business at the inn. In the meanwhile, the huntsmen would keep the area safe, as they always did.  
  
The following day was quieter usual - the family prayed then relaxed in the small family library and in their father’s study as they read stories; children catching up on whatever homework they hadn’t finished. Most people usually spent this day recovering from the rush of the previous two, but the Arc’s had moderated themselves and Jaune personally found himself with far too much energy to spend.  
  
But today no one would bother any of the others in their reading - it was a tradition of sorts, his mother explained - so Jaune took the advantage to study up on dancing through history and pick up a few dances from the pictures in the old manuscripts. It was rather surprising when he had the inspiration to compare some of them to martial arts scrolls and noticed there were several parallels to be drawn from the two. One of the most blatant dances torn straight from what looked like a combat manual was called the “Samurai Drop”, much to Jaune’s confusion.  
  
The combative arts could be enhanced by practice in more aesthetic and cultural arts as the warrior’s breadth was widened and deepened, and vice versa. Not to mention he was almost certain he could see the hints of the first of the Seven Celestial Steps footwork in one of the dance manuscripts he had pulled from his father’s study. Obviously someone in the past had gone to great lengths to conceal many warrior techniques in more artistic and non-combative forms. Like the Samurai Drop which seemed to be an unarmed style hidden within a raver’s dance style.  
  
Plus, tomorrow the siblings would once again compete on the dance floor and Jaune wanted an edge. This insight explained his sisters’ formidability on the dance floor with their dance-combat techniques, and Jaune began planning his counters. He had dodged them before on instinct, now he could figure out how to counterattack!  
  
So the following morning when the Seven Deadly Sisters attempted to eliminate Jaune from the competition, Jaune managed to hold his ground and fight back. There was absolutely nothing the sisters could do to push Jaune out of the competition as he simply danced around them and dragged them into his personal flow to the point that they almost seemed like his backup dancers than his competitors. It was mind-boggling to the sisters - he’d barely practiced these last few months, so how was he able to make such progress?  
  
Perhaps it was the result of the Pell training? Certainly, Jaune’s endurance had improved by leaps and bounds since he’d begun training, but this was certainly fearsome! Especially as he began pulling out dancing techniques the sisters had never seen before, managing these skills and flourishes with practiced precision.  
  
Then he unconsciously began to pull on his Aura to enhance his motions and refine his steps, and suddenly it seemed as if a God of Dance had descended upon the Chateau’s grounds. The competition was over - none of the seven had the heart to compete with their brother anyways. They ended up competing for second best, but no one felt sore when Violet managed to claim that prize.  
  
So instead they crafted better poetry and painted with far better skill as they spent the rest of their day in artistic pursuits. Their mother Aude’s voice rang through the heavens as the siblings learned many new tunes on the multitude of instruments the family had acquired over the years. Aude played the large stringed instruments like the guqin, the sitar and veena. Bianca played the guitar and the drums, while Violet was good at tabla, and the twins like woodwinds in equal measure. Azure was excellent with the piano and the guitar, as was Indigo who also liked using drum sets as well. Olivia was skilled with the violin and cello, but her flute was sublime. Jaune just tried to pick up all of them while his mother nurtured his singing: so long as he wasn’t improvising his voice was rather good.  
  
“The great condor already said that,” Jaune muttered when reminded of that.  
  
“What was that, Jaune?”  
  
“Nothing, Mom.”  
  
Meanwhile, their other mother, Kareena, aided their father in crafting sculptures of various animals and figures of legend to pass the time. After dinner, the siblings’ parents disappeared to their chambers, and the youngsters avoided that wing of the house like the plague. Instead they played games and styled each other’s hair for fun before they stopped Violet from sneaking out to party some more and ended up nodding off in the lounge.  
  
Jaune ended up with a rather tasteful Lutetian braid, though his sisters lamented his hair was still not long enough to really get creative with. “I’ll grow it out later,” he promised, though knew that would be far in the future - long hair was a hinderance at the Pell, and Jaune really didn’t want his father to upgrade from rocks to acorns because he thought Jaune was slacking off by letting his hair grow. Roland’s rocks were hard and fast, but those acorns were like bullets and could ricochet unpredictably!  
  
The next day was spent praying at the small shrine in the chateau to the old gods as they celebrated their ancestors and their mothers recounted stories of their legends. Then they minded the gardens because they hadn’t done so in a while and it was important to make sure the plants were tended to before winter set in. Afterwards the family retired to the libraries and study for reading once more, and Jaune busied himself with some comic-books and fantasy novels when his parents weren’t looking.  
  
They toasted to the end of another Calibration at dinner before going to bed, and then it was all over, and it was soon be winter once more. Jaune couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to his training through the cold months as the snow made it difficult to be outdoors for too long without getting sick. His parents seemed worried about something, but Jaune trusted that whatever it was was an adult thing he had no reason to concern himself with. All Jaune had to be concerned with was school, having fun with friends, training, and becoming better in all ways so he’d be a hero when he grew older. It wouldn’t do to rush into becoming a hero, naturally.  
  
Jaune was content to be patient, and do epic things when he was big and strong, and no one would treat him less for being so young and small.  
  


\-------------------------Drunk Spider Party-------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Not entirely happy with this chapter myself, sad to say. Well, the ending of it, at least, which I maybe, kinda, sorta rushed to write because I got busy last week and have been trying to at least be weekly so I wanted to get this out ASAP. I’m half tempted to rewrite it later and add details, maybe another thousand words or so to flesh out Calibration as it’s celebrated in Orleans and how the Arc family celebrates it personally some more. How the rest of Remnant views Calibration is something I may reference later, because each continent has different views on the international holiday, much like they do about a bunch of other stuff like Faunus rights and interpretations of the Oumist Texts (cue Peleps Deled’s rant about “interpretations”).
> 
> Note, I will personally be impressed if anyone is able to figure out why the demon was there and who killed it before I inevitably reveal that in the future. I welcome all guesses.
> 
> Also, this way I can get to the first large time skip of a little under a year - before Bianca and Violet compete as second-years in the Vytal Festival held in Vale (for those of you keeping track, 8 years prior to RWBY canon). Jaune may or may not be expecting to attend, but, naturally, there are shenanigans afoot.
> 
> Writing this chapter also reminds me how much Betas are probably strange entities that exist in-and-out of Fate whose job is to keep Pattern Spiders on track and deal with outrageous authors and their silly habits. Thus, they happen to possess mastery of Sidereal MA and likely custom charms like “Diligent Scribe’s Comments” and “Elusive Unrecruitable Prana” and “Thousand Quill Corrections”. Capturing such an entity continues to baffle me. 


	8. Welcome to Anima

The first clue Jaune had when he woke up that something was very wrong was that he woke up on his back and his feet didn’t have anything on them. This meant that he was not wearing his onesie as his favored nightwear had footies on the ends of the pant-legs to keep his toes warm and toasty. Jaune didn’t remember putting it on, but then again, he didn’t remember falling asleep either.

  
Jaune’s second clue was the fact that he instinctively knew that it was well past sunrise, and Jaune almost never overslept. He usually got up before the sun rose as it was, so waking up sometime late in the morning was strange for Jaune.

That there were birds chirping in the canopy above him because his pillow had somehow ended up being a tree root was perhaps the third and most obvious clue he wasn’t at home.

Oh, and there was some weight pressing on his lap that he didn’t recognize as human.

So Jaune opened his eyes and slowly propped himself up on his elbows and came face to face with some manner of armor-cat snuggling atop his thighs that was starting to wake up. It was about the same size as a large kitten, covered in some manner of armor shell that blended with it’s fur coat of dappled camouflage. Frankly, it seemed to be trying to look adorable, but the fact that even this little cat had sharp fangs gave Jaune some shock. He could recognize the feel of pads on the feline’s paws that marked sheathed claws. The creature wasn’t native of the forests around Orleans.

_Now that I think about it, I don’t recall this forest either… well, better find Dad’s note then. There’s always been a note._

Idly, Jaune scratched under it’s chin as he realized that if it was a kitten, then surely its siblings and/or mother were nearby. That theory was confirmed when he heard a low growl behind him as the kitten gave a purr in response.

Oh, look, it was mama-armor-cat! All full grown and the size of a horse, with armor that had rough spines and teeth like knives, claws like daggers, and a frightening coloration of greens, browns and pale oranges that Jaune knew only aided it in stalking through this … jungle? It was certainly rather thick and lush with life, but perhaps “dense forest” would be more apt. Jaune wasn’t really quite sure he could recognize the difference on sight - just that it was somewhat warm for autumn, and he most certainly wasn’t around Vale like he’d been hoping.

He really should have been panicking, but for some reason, he was just annoyed that he couldn't for the life of him remember how his father had knocked him out. Was it something he ate?

Ah, wait, no. He could remember now. It was something Jaune drank.

“Well, hello there,” Jaune smiled, knowing that fear was likely not a good thing to show to a predator. “I’ll be out of your fur in a moment, just need to figure out where Dad left the note.”

Mama-armor-cat wasn’t too convinced, especially with how playful her cub had started to be by snuggling up on the stranger’s stomach and miaou-ing cutely. Protective of her cub, she took a threatening step forward, bearing her teeth with a growl. It was obvious she wasn’t going to just let Jaune walk around as a possible threat to her cub.

Jaune sighed, “Right, wrong language. And I have no idea what dialect you speak, so hopefully general ‘cat’ works.”

Clearing his throat, Jaune began to negotiate with the angry mama-armor-cat.

\-------------------------Welcome to Anima-------------------------

  
Once the armor-cats had moved away - mother still rather annoyed with Jaune for reasons Jaune was sure only made sense to the feline - Jaune stood up and took stock of his situation. It wouldn’t do to panic because he still didn’t know how he got here, but this had happened before, and Jaune knew it had happened to his sisters.

“Still not sure if this is considered a normal training method,” he muttered to himself as he was wearing cotton pants of a dark brown and a long, beige-and-white robe-like shirt that was short in the sleeves but long in length worn over a light, thin undershirt. A few long sashes were wrapped around his waist like a belt. His feet had no socks on them, but there was a pair of cloth slippers tucked in the front of his shirt that he quickly wore so he didn’t have to deal with rocks on the ground. His hair was tied back with a strip of linen, and the torc around his neck was unadorned. Jaune didn’t even know why he still had the torc - sure he was wearing it before, but now it didn’t go with his outfit. Maybe Dad couldn’t get it off him without waking him?

Jaune didn’t have his father’s instructions on him, so he’d have to find them quickly if he wanted to finish this test and be able to make it to Vale in time for the festival. Oh, and his sisters’ tournament, but mostly the fun and games at the festival - he’d never been to Vale before.

“And I’ll need a stick.”

It was a lost cause looking for his father or mothers to bail him out before he finished the training exercise. Father usually just left the instructions and disappeared. His moms either weren't informed of what he was actually doing or simply refused to intervene unless he was legitimately dying. All Jaune knew was his dad slept on the couch for a few days whenever Jaune got back from one of these exercises 

A glint in the corner of his eye revealed his prey. A slender tube hung from a rope tied to the hilt of a dagger that had been driven into the trunk of a mighty tree. A pair of arcs scratched into the bark over the dagger confirmed that it was his father's instructions for him. Interesting. Last time he’d been given some leather reinforced clothes, a small sword, a buckler and a lunchbox then told to survive on his own for a weekend in the mountains.

_First time I killed something,_ Jaune remembered before shaking that thought away. No. Not the time to think about it. He had to complete the exercise.

This seemed to be similar to the mountain training, only now he just had these clothes and that small blade stuck in the tree.

“I'll have to be careful and hope this is quick,” Jaune said to no one as he unwound the tube from the knife. The knife in the tree was rather plain - no adornments or anything, just a blade with a handle of wood capped with a hilt and pommel of iron. The dagger was single edged with a clip-point tip, which made it good for cutting and slicing. He wrenched the blade free and stuck it in his sash - his only weapon and tool now. Then he scampered up a nearby tree to make sure he didn't run into any wild animals or Grimm and examined the tube.

It was made out of bamboo and the cap on one end was tightly sealed with a similar material. It seemed airtight but the other end was loose and could be popped off. There was a short cord affixed to the loose ends that kept the cap from getting lost.

Jaune made short work of that and removed the papers kept within. He looped the loose string to his waist so he could carry the tube later. But first the papers.

The first was several lines of sheet music for an untitled song. It seemed like he'd need a flute or ocarina or a similar woodwind to play it. Something light, clear and capable of hitting those very high notes.

The second was covered in gibberish and nonsense Jaune had no course how to make sense out of. There was a drawing of a sword in the top right corner, though. A code perhaps?

The third was a diagram for Dust crystal placement and the rudimentary magic to determine elemental affinity. Jaune found this thoroughly useless: he’d already done this on his ninth birthday and was deeply disappointed he had no affinities for any of the Dust types. His father had seemed disappointed, but none of his parents seemed particularly surprised. Jaune wasn’t sure he felt about that, but it was heart-breaking when he learned from his sisters what that meant.

The fourth was blank but smelled funny. Secret ink? Likely, but Jaune didn’t have the means to test it.

The fifth was a letter. Finally, now he was getting somewhere. Especially since it was in his father’s hand and addressed to Jaune.

It read:

_Cher Jaune,_

_By the time you read this, I will already be in another province, dealing with some matters of great importance. I trust you shall be honest and honorable in completing this exercise and passing the test I am giving you. Failure is unacceptable - if you cannot finish this task or suffer major injuries in the process, or fail to uphold any of the rules, there will be serious punishments._

_A few things to be aware of. Firstly, you are not on Sanus right now - you’re somewhere on Anima, and the nearest settlement is a few days away. I’m not telling you where exactly. You wo_

Jaune paused, then re-read that last sentence, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Not only had his father dropped him off in the middle of a dense forest that was home to scary armor-cats, but had done this on an entirely different continent. That was…  _how_? Last Jaune remembered, he was with his father in Lutetia to catch an airbus to Vale for the Festival.

Now he was nowhere  _near_  that, but on the eastern continent.

“Better be some good news somewhere in here….”

_A few things to be aware of. Firstly, you are not on Sanus right now - you’re somewhere on Anima, and the nearest settlement is a few days away. I’m not telling you where exactly. You won’t have the luxury of home-turf advantage, so stay strong._

_Secondly, for the duration of this exercise, you are not “Jaune Luna Arc”, and should be very careful that no one you may encounter learns your identity. Crouching tigers and hidden dragons, son. If you break this rule, you fail. Come up with a false name to go by._

Jaune frowned at that. He understood the sentiment behind the phrase about tigers and dragons, but it Jaune hadn’t thought he would ever need to apply it to himself… He was proud of his name and his father. Not being Jaune, son of the Arc family, was almost unthinkable. It was his heritage and home, so why must he hide that?

“But so be it,” Jaune resigned himself to the instruction, and debated its merit. Even if he could not use his given name or his family name, at least he would be filial in keeping them secret.

_Thirdly, be wary of strangers and beasts, and don’t fall for any tricks. Don’t pick fights, and do not be stupid and fight Grimm. My advice is to run away from conflict where possible - the goal of this exercise is not to see how many Grimm you can kill, but to survive and finish the task._

_Fourthly, don’t take too long. If you’re not done and home by Calibration, your mothers will be very upset, and you can kiss being a Huntsman goodbye._

_Fifthly, be careful and avoid getting into trouble. No reason to give your mothers and sisters reason to worry more than they do. If you get into a fight, Run Away. You need to finish this quickly or you’ll miss out on all the fun of the festival! So hurry up!_

All in all, Jaune felt these instructions were reasonable enough. Constant bouts against his father had reinforced the fact that Jaune’s training was woefully incomplete, and that he was years from being his father’s match.

_Your task is simple, Jaune - find your uncle Oliver. He should be in the city of Windpath right now, but it’s your job to find him and give him one of the four other pages I’ve given you. I leave it to you to figure out which page to give, and to get it to him before he leaves for Sanus._

_This is your first chance to walk the path of the Xia, Jaune. But remember that your job is to simply take the page to your uncle. So be careful and don’t get into trouble. Now hurry up, you’re wasting time._

_Love,  
Your Father_

_PS If you miss their tourney matches, your sisters will be angry. So do hurry up and find your uncle Oliver, Jaune!_

Jaune took a moment to stare at that postnote before folding up the letter and stuffing it in his shirt along with the others. He could have rolled them up in the bamboo tube again, but it was probably better to keep them directly on his person. Less chance of losing them.

“Well, first I need to figure out where I am,” Jaune reasoned. Basic geography reminded him that the free city of Windpath was somewhere east of the Mistral capital, so it was just a matter of figuring out if he was in northern Anima or Southern Anima. But to do that, he’d need to find a map or landmark. That meant he had to find higher ground or people.

Jaune glanced at the thick trunk of a nearby tree and judged it’s height. “That’ll do.” With the practice of a playful child, Jaune scampered up the trunk and made his way into the arboreal branches. From there it was a matter of finding the right footholds and testing the strength of the tree’s arms to make sure they would support him as he climbed higher and higher.

_“Hey, watch it! Privacy please!”_

“Get lost!”

A burst of motion and flurry of feathers from a pair of irate avians whose privacy he had disturbed forced him to move to another tree and make several apologies. Soon enough he mustered the courage to skip to another tree and climb even higher until he was able to peer through the canopy. The angry cries of the birds still rang in his ears, but Jaune decided to ignore them. He’d already apologized, and moved away, they would forget about him soon enough.

“No coast line,” Jaune noted as he scanned the horizon. The sun above him was high in the sky, but something told Jaune that it was still morning, rather than afternoon. It was like his own internal timepiece - he just knew when the sun was in the sky and what time of day it was. It was a talent that came to him easily, much like the ease with which inner energy breathing was simple once he figured out how his meridians worked. Or rather, how to overcharge them and amplify his strength. How to make his body light as a feather, yet still fight like a lion.

Or rather, a little cub, as mother would remind him. He still wasn’t his sisters’ match.

Not yet.

“Mountains are too far, just trees, and that looks like it might be a river over there,” Jaune began to note the terrain and commit it to memory. He’d have to go over everything over and over in his head before he got it all, but with the lack of tools to make a map, memory would have to serve.

“Smoke in the distance,” he blinked as he saw the faint distortion in the skies above the horizon. Either that meant a camp, or a village. There wasn’t much for it to be anything more, but the presence of smoke in the distance meant fire. And given the clouds looked calm, that meant people.

He looked up and checked the sky again. He’d need to find someplace to stay today, because that seemed more like a day’s walk and traveling by night was a terrible idea in unknown territory. Grimm might be about, or other hungry beasts. Most of the wild animals left Jaune be, but hunger made most animals think of the young boy as a meal.

Grimm just wanted to kill him. They were monsters and demons, and that was what they did. Jaune had no sympathy or desire to make friends with creatures like that.

Jaune nodded to himself. A plan was formed - he’d find water and forage for food then make his way towards where the fire was.

“But first I’ll need a stick.”

Jaune clambered down the tree and dropped the last meter with a huff. His feet let a soft whiff of air as he landed like a feather. Thank goodness he’d finally been taught rudimentary lightfoot. He’d need to find a fallen branch big and straight enough for him to work with. The knife his father had left was a poor weapon of choice.

As he searched for a branch, Jaune picked some berries that he recognized as edible and popped them in his mouth. Not very juicy, but had an interesting tang to them. He picked several more and kept them in his robe-shirt for later.

As he searched and foraged on his way towards the gap in trees he believed to be a river, Jaune thought back to the last he could remember before he had been unceremoniously abandoned in the middle of these dense wilderness.

“Stupid soda… stupid grapes…”

\-------------------------Welcome to Anima-------------------------

  
“Dude, Vale is so  _wild!_  I mean, the festival hasn’t actually started yet, but there’s so much to do and tons of people! I mean, it’s gonna be like Calibration came early, mec, and no Church in the mornings.”

“Man, Nino, I’m so jealous. But I’m going to be there soon too! Where are you and your folks staying? Maybe we can meet up and hang out in Vale before the tournaments start once I get there,” Jaune grinned as his friend gushed from the other side of the terminal.

Jaune was sitting at the communal CCT terminal network room at the port of Lutetia. Rows of terminals for video and audio calls to anywhere in the world as well as general access to the world’s communication network. At the moment, his father was sitting at the booth next to him talking with his mothers in Vale who had gone ahead with Jaune’s older sisters. Bianca and Violet had been staying at Beacon Academy for a while now - Violet having gone with her team from Haven Academy for the Festival - and the twins were stuck in combat school, but Azure, Indigo and Olivia had jumped at the chance to leave Orleans early to attend the festival.

Jaune on the other hand had been guilt-tripped into staying home with Roland for a little under a week as the family head couldn’t pull himself away from work in time. He’d gotten calls at the home terminal from his sisters every day, but now he was actually on his way to Vale himself.

But since Orleans had no port of it’s own beyond the small wharf for boats on the river, Roland had ridden with Jaune to Lutetia. Lutetia was an old city and was once capital of a large kingdom that had conquered much of the continent of Sanus, establishing an ancient empire. Of course, the capital moved around frequently, which was why there were old palaces and chateaus almost everywhere in the Gallic territories of Sanus that dated back to the period, and housed a wide variety of nobility from which Jaune and his sisters were descended.

Though, the empire eventually fell for reasons Jaune hadn’t gotten to yet in history, and a century of two later, others sprang up in it’s wake, until eventually it was the kingdom of Vale whose rulers became the liege lords for much of Eastern Sanus. So when the Great War broke out, and ended with the Vytal Accords and the signing of all sorts of treaties Jaune couldn’t remember the names to, it was Vale that held the most power in the area. This lead to it becoming one of the four Kingdoms - the former seats of power for the nations that had sworn half the world to their banners and drew the entire world into their conflict.

People still thought it was a miracle that the world hadn’t fallen to the Grimm in the wake of that catastrophe. But people persisted, nations rose and fell and transformed at time went on. Life moved forward, and humans and faunus, people, found a way. Even if much of history was lost to the dusts of time and the claws of the Grimm, that seemed a constant.

So the signing of the Vytal Accords was a massive victory for the people of Remnant, and one that the Four Kingdoms celebrated lavishly every other year. Now it was being held in Vale during the autumn season, and his sisters were eligible to compete in the Four Kingdom Vytal Festival Huntsman Tournament - a tourney for huntsman and huntresses studying at the Four Kingdom Alliance Huntsman Academies of Atlas, Haven, Shade and Beacon.

But history was never important in comparison to cheering his sisters on as they kicked butt and took names. Or the other way around, it was all good fun, as well as the fact that Jaune was excited to finally be visiting someplace other than the Gallic territories. He’d lived in Orleans as long as he could remember, and Lutetia was a place his family visited rather often. Lutetia was a taste of what Jaune knew he could expect from Vale, in some senses - the art and entertainment of Lutetia and it’s busy streets were a marvel to the boy, its culture and style inimitable, but he could only dream of actually walking the streets of Vale, much like he’d seen on the television screens of various shows and events broadcast around the world.

So he had ridden with his father in a carriage to Lutetia where they took a short tour of the city to kill time. The messenger tower was a fascinating monument, apparently built for a fair in ancient times, and the father and son ate crepes along the river side as they passed the Cathedral. They decided to pose for a portrait rather than dropping in on one of his father’s friends uninvited - their tickets weren’t for a train out of the Gare like his sisters had apparently used to travel to Vale, but for a late-night airbus, so the two had time.

It felt almost nostalgic for Jaune, for some reason, to have his portrait made with his father’s proud hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t quite place why. Part of him felt like he should be having a circlet on his brow and sword at his hip as he posed in front of the river, the cathedral behind them in the distance.

As the sun descended, they had made their way to Port De Gaulle for their airbus and were killing time in the terminal booths until they had to board, which is where Jaune was now speaking with Nino.

“Totally, mec, if my folks let us. I hear the arcades here in Vale are epic, it’d be so much fun. Hey, your sister’s at Beacon - think she can get us a tour of the place?”

Jaune shrugged. “No idea, I’ll ask when we get there. Our airbus boards in an hour, so we should be in Vale tomorrow morning.”

“Cool. My parents and I are staying at the Hotel Charing Oak on Billard’s.”

“My dad’ll call yours if we’re free, mec.”

“Later Jaune.”

“See ya, Nino,” Jaune waved back to his friend before the two disconnected, the screen returning to the generic entry display for Port de Gaulle’s CCT terminals.

“You thirsty Jaune?”

Jaune turned to his father who was leaning out of the booth on his left. Jaune smiled as he noted his father hoisted his luggage over one shoulder, Durendal still in its sheath at Roland’s hip. The sword drew attention - only huntsmen were allowed to carry weapons openly in a place like Port de Gaulle. It was both a security risk, but also a necessity for huntsmen to have their armaments close at hand in case of trouble like aerial Grimm.

Of course, it would have to be put away while on board, but the sheer presence of the tall man with a sword on his hip was undeniable and drew looks of admiration and wariness from all around them. Jaune felt strange about that attention, but his father had told him to ignore it. Jaune was still trying, but it was difficult to just ignore the eyes that were drawn to the pair. He just took refuge in his father’s presence, and hoped that would make it better.

“Not really.”

“Hmn. We might not get a chance to get something before we’re in the air Jaune... “ Roland pressed.

It took a moment, but Jaune caved. “Alright then. Do they have juice?”

“I’ll check.”

Roland moved off and Jaune entertained himself with surfing the web, fingers flickering over the keyboard, the physical keys more responsive to his touch than the standard holographic interface. He was lucky they had a physical-board interface at the Port, because they weren’t very popular at all. Jaune suspected it was because the holo-interface was more convenient and advanced and thus lent to the added ambiance of Port de Gaulle as an aero-port for the modern age.

Oooh, someone was talking about what the next X-Ray and Vav arc would be. Jaune wondered if it would involve the Mad King again.

He was thusly distracted with his father put a can down on the short bench by the keyboard. It was aluminum and colored in purple, declaring  _People Like Grapes_.

“Grape soda okay?” his father asked. Jaune shrugged.

“Sure.”

He continued to sip at the soda while surfing the web until his father noted they should move to their gate and prepare for boarding.

Seeing the mass of people and families that gathered at the gate for the airbus was the last thing Jaune could remember before it all got fuzzy. He could have sworn that the gate was for the flight to Vale. But things were just hazy and he must have nodded off on an empty seat in the terminal.

And then his father somehow managed to get him halfway across the world to another continent and dump him in the middle of the woods with no person around for miles.

“Stupid Grapes.”

\-------------------------Welcome to Anima-------------------------

  
Jaune had found a stick, and carved the excess bark off it, trimming it into a short staff suitable for a child his height. It was pliable, but sturdy and didn’t shake too much when he whipped it around to test its flexibility. It could support much of his weight when he leaned on it, and double as a whacking stick if he needed to.

It would do.

Jaune named the rudimentary staff… Stick.

He wasn’t feeling very imaginative today.

“It’s good that you’re on my side, Stick. Mostly because I made you, but that’s not important! You may not be much of a talker, but you’re a great listener.” Jaune said to his walking stick as he made the most of the daylight to traverse these unknown wilds.

“I can just tell this is will be the beginning of a beautiful partnership!”

Jaune paused then looked at Stick.

“Okay, that was rude, but you’re not wrong.”

“...”

“Well, that’s too bad, you have to listen to me. I’m your boss.”

Jaune nodded to himself, ignored Stick’s protests and made his way southeast towards that river he believed he’d spotted. After hours of hiking, he’d avoided a few more predators and gotten some directions from some of the local critters to make it to the river.

It was rather swiftly moving and would be troublesome to cross, but Jaune knew he had little other choice. He could faintly see fish under the surface, swimming swiftly with the current. Idly he stuck Stick into the water to test its speed and strength. Yup, strong.

He knelt and scooped water in his hands to taste. The cool liquid dripped past his lips and dribbled a little down his chin and on his neck, but Jaune had gotten enough of a taste to know it was freshwater, and that he was somewhat inland. That wasn’t good news, but at least it gave him drinkable water, and he could maybe find another branch to turn into a rudimentary fishing spear.

The sun was beginning to dip past the horizon, and Jaune figured that he wouldn’t be much use if he was wet from crossing the river when night fell. So he found a spot near a narrow bend to make camp and set up a fire pit. With a pair of dry sticks and a good deal of effort, a small fire was started on the twigs and leaves he’d gathered. Then he took off his top, slippers, and rolled up his pant legs before making a rough bident out of a slender stick. Then he waded into the river and planted himself like a rock so he wouldn’t get swept away. It took him an hour before he managed to catch one, but mostly because the darned fish were slippery. Then he remembered a trick he’d been taught in the Lost Woods and started to anticipate where the fish would swim to with the current in order to pierce them before the fish could react. It took some practice, but he eventually got the hang of it and caught several. He didn’t bother trying to identify them, they were just food now.

Then he just used the dagger to clean them and speared them on sticks he held over the fire to roast. Once he figured they were done, he prayed for the meal, then ate, and made faces at the horrendous taste - he may not have cooked them enough. But he’d caught them and they were his, so by the end of it, Jaune was satisfied with having succeeded in this task.

Then he clothed himself again and drew up to the trunk of a tree and made sure Stick and the fishing spear were close by as he tended to the small fire. As the sun finally fell beyond the sky, he said his prayers and did his exercises, then went back to keeping the fire going, careful not to let it get out of hand or make too much smoke. Then he focused his breathing to train his control and clear his thoughts to meditate. Eventually he drifted to sleep, and the fire died in the night whilst the young boy dreamed.

\-------------------------Welcome to Anima-------------------------

 ****  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Woot! Time-skip of a little under a year. It’s in the swing of autumn at the moment, and the Vytal Festival begins soon in Vale. But Jaune’s not invited! What adventures will the young Solar have on his trek to Wind Path to meet his maternal uncle, Oliver de Gennes, wielder of the blade Hauteclere? Whose fates shall cross paths with the young hero’s?


End file.
